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IN QUEST OF THE GOLDEN CHEST 


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IN QUEST OF THE 
GOLDEN CHEST 

A STORY OF ADVENTURE 


BY 

GEORGE BARTON 

AUTHOR OF “the MYSTERY OF CLEVERLY,” “ THE ANGELS 
OF THE BATTLEFIELD,” ETC. 


NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGEr’s MAGAZINE 


1913 


\ Z-3 

.B 

X 


Copyright, 1913, by Benziger Brothers 





©CI.A354877 






















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

Captain Hawkins returns home after a long and eventful 
voyage 9 

CHAPTER H , 

Captain Hawkins unexpectedly embarks on a longer and 
more uncertain voyage 18 

CHAPTER HI 

Paul boards the Water Witch and finds himself in a 
curious predicament 29 

CHAPTER IV 

Paul meets a new friend and discovers an old enemy . . 39 

CHAPTER V 

Bill Rambo demonstrates that he is a person who must be 
considered . . . . . . . i.. ;. 50 

CHAPTER VI 

BiU Rambo, taking charge of the Water Witch, proves his 

ability to threaten and command 59 

6 


6 


Contents 


CHAPTER VII 

' PAGE 

Paul Parker astonishes a former foe by returning good 
for evil 70 

CHAPTER VHI 

The Water Witch suddenly changes her name for better or 
for worse 82 

CHAPTER IX 

The crew of the Sea Gull find themselves divided into 
rival camps 92 

CHAPTER X 

The Sea-Gull, after a brave attempt to hold her own, goes 
down to oblivion 105 

CHAPTER XI 

Mark Logan, on reaching dry land, gets a taste of the 
“Law of the Sea” .117 

CHAPTER XII 

An unexpected discovery causes Paul and the Mate to 
change their plans 128 

CHAPTER XHI 

The adventurers have a curious night in the woods of San 
Domingo 140 


Contents % 

CHAPTER XIV 

PAGE 

The travelers meet and overcame several obstacles on the 
way to Mocha 155 

CHAPTER XV 

The adventurers are afforded a fleeting glimpse of Bill 
Rambo 169 

CHAPTER XVI 

Pursuers and pursued come to close quarters and fight it 
out in the Widow’s Pass 182 

CHAPTER XVII 

Paul and Job, after straying into a strange cave, tumble 
over two familiar forms 196 

CHAPTER XVHI 

The weary travelers reach San Domingo only to meet with 
a bitter disappointment 206 

CHAPTER XIX 

Job and Paul, obtaining passage on the Starlight, witness 
an extraordinary phenomenon 220 

CHAPTER XX 

In the midst of desolation and destruction one who was 
forgotten comes in the guise of vengeance .... 231 


8 


Contents 


CHAPTER XXI 

PAGE 

Bill Rambo, after beholding an unusual sight, finds his 
well-laid plans frustrated . . .. . ... . . • 247 


CHAPTER XXII 

Paul and Job look upon the sunny side of life and meet 
with astonishing results . i. . 260 


CHAPTER XXIII 

Paul and Job, going out to sea, come within hailing dis- 
tance of Davy Jones’ Locker . > . . i. . r. 275 

CHAPTER XXIV 

The adventurers, being picked up by a government vessel, 
fall in with some old friends 289 


CHAPTER XXV 

Bill Rambo, by a little strategy, gets a look inside the 
treasure chest ..... 303 


CHAPTER XXVI 

Job Singleton chases a thief in the night with startling 
results 312 


CHAPTER XXVII 


The dark clouds prove to have, not a silver, but a golden 
lining . 318 


IN QUEST OF THE 
GOLDEN CHEST 


CHAPTER I 

CAPTAIN HAWKINS RETURNS HOME AFTER A 
LONG AND EVENTFUL VOYAGE 

A fter cruising around the world for twenty 
yearsj Captain James Hawkins, of the 
Water Witch, was returning home with a 
fortune. 

Two men stood on the porch of the hotel at 
Lewes, straining their eyes for a sight of the 
Water Witch, One was the landlord of the 
village inn ; the other was a thick-set person in 
a faded brown coat. He blinked at the land- 
lord, and leaning on the rail of the veranda, 
gazed out toward the bay. He rubbed his 
sleepy eyes several times, but all he could see 
was impenetrable banks of dull, heavy clouds. 
‘T don’t believe he’s coming,” he growled. 
“Your beliefs don’t amount to much, 
Rambo,” retorted the landlord. 

The red face of the thick-set man became 
purplish with resentment, and he advanced 
9 


10 


Captain Hawhins Returns Home 


toward the landlord menacingly. He looked 
formidable and unlovely. He rubbed the 
stubby fingers of his right hand across the 
closely cropped hair on the top of his round 
head, and peered out of a pair of dull gray 
eyes — eyes more like those of a rat than of a 
man, so small and deep set were they. If he 
thought of fighting, however, he changed his 
mind quickly and, going to the end of the 
porch, sat down in sullen silence. 

The fog was clearing slowly but surely. 
The vapor dissipated and curled into thou- 
sands of little balls, and then wound skyward 
like a misty white curtain being ceremoniously 
unrolled. The bay gradually cleared and in 
ten minutes the sea was calm and unflecked. 
The lighthouses at Cape May and Cape Hen- 
lopen stood out sharp and clear, silent white 
sentinels guarding the welfare of the travelers 
of the deep. The first strange object that met 
the searching gaze of the men on the porch was 
a trim-looking steamer, painted entirely white, 
its smokestack standing out in bojd relief 
against the greenish waste of waters. 

The landlord uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prise. He turned to his wife, who was stand- 
ing in the doorway. 

“Bring my binoculars,” he commanded. 

Before she had time to hand them to him, he 
snatched them from her and peered eagerly 


Captain Hawkins Returns Home 11 

through the strong lenses. Presently he laid 
them down with a look of gratification, 

“I knew I couldn’t be mistaken.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s the Water Witchr 

“What! Jim Hawkins’ ship?” 

“The same, as I’m a blue hen’s chicken!” 

Rambo picked up the discarded glasses and 
gazed long and earnestly at the white object. 

“You’re right,” he said. “It is the Water 

Witchr 

“Of course it is,” said the landlord, self- 
satisfaction depicted on his sunburned face; 
“didn’t I say it was?” 

“Yes,” assented the other with unusual 
amiability, “but how in the world did he come 
to be in port this morning?” 

“Why,” retorted the other dogmatically, 
“he’s come home; that’s the reason. We all 
come home sometime, don’t we?” 

“Yes, I ’spose so,” answered Rambo with 
the air of a man who is making a reluctant 
admission, “but I’ve been hearing stories of 
his being lost at sea.” 

“Rubbish!” quoth the other, his confidence 
greatly strengthened by the ocular demonstra- 
tion of the white ship. “What he’s been doing 
is making a fortune.” 

The beady eyes in Bill Rambo’s face danced 
with interest. His voice was lowered to a re- 


IS Captain Hawkins Returns Home 

spectful key. He spoke with as much def- 
erence as was possible for a man with a 
throaty voice. 

“Do you know for certain?” 

“Sure; Mrs. Hawkins’s been telling my wife 
all about the letters she got from the Captain. 
Why, everything that Jim Hawkins touched 
turned to gold.” 

The little eyes were actually glistening now. 
The big man was breathing heavily. He was 
like a child who has had his first taste of fairy 
tales. He was hungry for more. 

“Where’s he been?” 

“Everywhere!” exclaimed the landlord with 
a wide sweeping gesture of his two hands. 

“Where in particular?” asked the persistent 
one. 

“In South American waters in particular,” 
replied the other, his own importance growing 
with every word he uttered. “Why, he’s been 
around the Horn a couple of times, he has. 
He’s been going to and fro with cargoes of 
logwood and such like. It wouldn’t surprise 
me if he came home to retire and live on his 
money.” 

The landlord might have continued in this 
vein indefinitely if his attention had not been 
attracted to a movement out on the water. 
He shaded his eyes with his hands and after 
a moment’s pause, exclaimed; 


Captain Hawkins Returns Home 13 

“They’re lowering a boat from the Water 

Witchr 

Rambo looked and saw that a rowboat was 
already in the water. Four seamen climbed 
over the side of the big steamer and seated 
themselves in the smaller craft. In a few 
moments a tall, angular man followed and 
quartered himself in the stern of the boat. 

“That’s Jim Hawkins!” exclaimed the red- 
♦faced one. “I’d know him a mile away.” 

Before the rowboat started for the shore 
a traveling bag was lowered and laid at the 
Captain’s feet, and the seamen fell to and 
pulled lustily toward the landing. A number 
of persons had gathered on the porch and they 
watched the arrival of the newcomers with 
great curiosity. As each dip of the oars 
brought the seamen nearer their destination, the 
interest of the natives grew in intensity. Pres- 
ently the bow of the boat grazed the sandy 
beach and the tall man leaped out, carrying 
his bag in his right hand. Many of the spec- 
tators rushed forward to greet him. Some 
addressed him as “Jim,” others called him 
“Captain,” while a few hung timidly in the 
background. One of these was Rambo, al- 
though it can hardly be said that timidity was 
one of his attributes. 

“Why don’t you go and shake hands with 
the Captain?” asked the landlord. 


14 


Captain HawJcins Returns Home 


“Not much,” was the sullen answer. “Jim 
Hawkins don’t like a bone in my body and I’m 
not going to run the risk of being insulted.” 

“Being kicked, I guess you mean,” chuckled 
the other. 

Captain Hawkins was striding up the hill by 
this time, making rapidly for the road which 
led to his picturesque little home. Half way 
up he halted abruptly and turned to one of the 
men who was following him. 

“Where’s Paul?” 

“Paul, what Paul?” 

“Paul Parker, my nephew,” was the irritable 
response. “Doesn’t he know the Water Witch 
is in port?” 

“I guess he doesn’t,” replied the other; 
“you see the fog’s been so thick here you could 
cut it with a knife. No one knew you were 
in port until the mist lifted a few minutes 
ago. 

“Umph!” was the short and enigmatic re- 
sponse. 

The Captain continued his journey, scarcely 
looking at his curious neighbors who formed 
an unsolicited guard of honor about him. Al- 
though he moved rapidly, there was a languor 
about the man. His face was burnt a dark 
brown, but the color was not the color of 
health. 

As he reached the two-story frame cottage 


Captain Hawkins Returns Home 


15 


which he called home, the door was thrown 
open and a little woman rushed out, crying: 

“Jim! Jim!” 

The next moment he had her in his strong 
embrace. There was a tremor in his voice as 
he said: 

“I’m home safe. Mother; there’s no need to 
go on so.” 

But the tears gushed forth from the woman 
unrestrained. She put her head on his 
brawny shoulders and gave full vent to her 
feehngs. One or two women among the 
crowd of idlers which had gathered, lifted 
the corners of their aprons and brushed away 
the furtive moisture from their own eyes. 
Captain Hawkins, happening to look around, 
caught the battery of curious glances. He 
waved his hand in a half -jocular way. 

“You’ll have to excuse us, folks; Mother 
and I have a lot to talk about.” 

And the next moment they had retired within 
the house and closed the door after them. But 
the return of the Captain was an event of 
momentous importance in the little town, and 
a group of neighbors still lingered about the 
doorway and talked and gossiped and specu- 
lated to their heart’s content. 

In the meantime a sturdy-looking boy of 
sixteen in a red sweater stood on the beach and 
gazed at the Water Witch. He had black 


16 Captain Hawkins Returns Home 

curly hair and wore the wholesome look of 
one who is much in the open air. Although 
young, he had the ways and manners of one 
who has matured thoughts and habits. He 
thrust his hands in his pockets, and screwing 
up his eyes, tried to decipher the name on the 
bow of the boat. 

“Does it look familiar, Paul?” 

The boy turned around and found the land- 
lord smiling down at him from the porch of the 
hotel. 

“Yes,” he answered. “It looks like a name 
I’ve often heard Aunt Susan mention. I’m 
trying to make it out.” 

“Well, it’s the Water Witch all right,” re- 
plied the other, with the conscious air of a 
man who has important news to impart. 

Paul Parker rushed up the porch two steps 
at a time. 

“When did she come in?” he asked breath- 
lessly. 

“This morning.” 

“Has uncle come ashore?” 

“Yes, and you’re the first one he asked for; 
he’s up at the house now.” 

Paul waited for no more. He dashed up 
the hill at breakneck speed and reaching the 
roadway, hurried toward the frame cottage. 
The crowd of gossipers had dispersed, but a 
bulky figure was in front of the house trying 


Captain Hawkins Returns Home 


17 


to peep into the window. This prying in- 
dividual had one foot on the edge of the porch 
and the other on the top step of the cottage. 
He was striving to squint into the room by 
looking over the white curtain that covered the 
lower half of the window. One glance at that 
round head and the short sprawling legs re- 
vealed the identity of the eavesdropper. It 
was Bill Rambo. There was a big stick lying 
in the roadway. Paul Parker’s first impulse 
was to pick this up and give the peeper a good 
whack on the back. But he noticed that the 
front door was slightly ajar, and that Bill 
Rambo was holding himself in position by 
clutching the inner jamb of the door. Paul’s 
decision was made instantly. He ran up the 
steps lightly and tiptoed silently into the hall- 
way. The sun reflected his figure, and Bill 
Rambo turning his head, saw and recognized 
the boy. But it was too late for his own good. 
Paul closed the door with a bang and caught 
the big fellow’s fingers in the jamb of the 
framework. They were released almost in- 
stantly, and then Paul re-closed and locked the 
door. From his place of safety within, he 
heard a mighty howl of rage and pain that 
resounded to the water’s edge and echoed back 
again, and looking out a side window he beheld 
Bill Rambo shambling down the hill, nursing 
his injured fingers and swearing like a pirate. 


CHAPTER II 


CAPTAIN HAWKINS UNEXPECTEDLY EMBARKS 
ON A LONGER AND MORE UNCERTAIN VOYAGE 

/^N the morning after his return home, Cap- 
tain Hawkins complained of severe pains 
about the chest, and at the urgent request of 
his wife, went to bed and was covered with 
warm blankets. For two days he was sub- 
jected to a course of old-fashioned home treat- 
ment, but on the evening of the second day his 
condition became so alarming that it was neces- 
sary to send for a physician. The doctor made 
a very careful examination and wrote out a 
prescription. The blunt sailor came straight 
to the point. 

“What’s the matter with me. Doctor?” 

The doctor smiled. 

‘Tf I gave you the technical name for your 
ailment, you would probably not understand 
it; however, it concerns your heart, which is 
seriously affected.” 

“Does that mean that I am going to die?” 

“Not necessarily.” 

“Not necessarily,” repeated the Captain, 
“but probably — is that what you mean?” 

18 


Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey 19 


The doctor was silent. 

“Come,” said the seaman impatiently, “I 
want the truth.” 

“Probably, is what I mean,” was the reluc- 
tant assent. 

After the departure of the doctor the old 
salt acted with characteristic promptness. He 
sent for his wife. He spoke calmly and with 
precision. 

“Susan, I’m about to go on my last voyage; 
it’s unexpected, but the call has come, and I’ve 
always been a man to obey orders. Thank 
God, I’ve been given time to set my house in 
order before I start on the uncertain journey. 
I’ve made a will leaving everything to you 
with the understanding that you will take care 
of Paul Parker. He’s your nephew as well 
as mine, and I’m sure you’ll love the boy as I 
do.” 

There was a painful silence for some mo- 
ments. 

“Is that all?” finally asked the weeping 
wife. 

“No,” came the sharp response, “there’s one 
other thing. It’s the most important of all. 
That’s why I’ve left it to the last.” 

“What is it?” 

The dying sailor looked at her steadily for 
a moment. He spoke in a solemn manner, 
with an added dignity and impressiveness. 


20 Captain Hawkins Embarks on a Journey 


“Send for the boy. He must hear this. 
IVe got an important task for him.” 

Paul Parker was summoned to the sick 
room. The tears came into his eyes when he 
beheld his uncle stretched out on the bed — the 
big man, so stalwart and yet so helpless. The 
boy wore his red sweater and he twirled his 
cap nervously in his hands. He had a great 
affection for this kinsman whom he now saw 
for the first time, yet felt a certain awe in his 
presence. 

“Come here, Paul,” said the Captain. 

He advanced and took the rough, sunburned 
hand that was extended from beneath the 
snow-white counterpane. The sailor looked 
at the boy for a long time. 

“You’re a fine-looking lad,” he said finally. 
“Sit down on that stool and listen carefully to 
all I have to say.” 

Paul obeyed. 

“All my life,” began the prostrate man, “I’ve 
tried to accumulate enough wealth to leave 
you and mother comfortable. I did so, but 
now that the hour has struck, here I am djdng 
and the fortune is thousands of miles away.” 

“Jim, Jim, you’re wandering,” protested 
his wife, who stood on the other side of the 
bed. 

The sailor waved his hand in a commanding 
way. 


Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey SI 

“I m the Captain and I’m sailing accord- 
ing to the chart. Don’t interrupt us, Mother. 
I’m going to give the boy the gospel truth — 
the only thing a seaman should speak when 
he’s nearing the shores of another world.” 

She caught her breath and nodded to in- 
dicate that there would be no further inter- 
ruption. The Captain lay very quiet for a 
few minutes. 

“Go on, Uncle,” prompted Paul; “I’m lis- 
tening.” 

“When I chartered the Water Witch three 
years ago, I made up my mind to make some 
money and I succeeded. I found the South 
American trade profitable. I’ve hauled wal- 
nut and logwood and — well, probably what 
you would call the munitions of war. I’ve 
carried guns and powder for revolutionists, 
and as a result of all that, I had a profit of 
fifty thousand dollars in gold certificates. I 
packed ’em in an old cedar chest, and with ’em 
a set of silverware and some fine silk dresses 
for Mother. 

“If I’d taken that and sailed straight home 
six months ago, all would have been well, but 
I didn’t and the consequence is that I have to 
put a man’s load on a boy’s shoulders. While 
I was in Jamaica, I got an offer to carry some 
stuff to the Argentine Republic and I ac- 
cepted. The question was what to do with the 


SS Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey 


treasure chest. I was afraid to take it to sea 
on a dangerous trip, for you know ships have 
gone to the bottom of the ocean, and I couldn’t 
bear to think of all the valuable contents of my 
strong box gone to make sport for the fishes. 
The chest was locked good and strong, the 
same as a regular trunk, and I finally decided 
to leave it with an express company at Spanish- 
town. I’m a little too old-fashioned about 
things of this kind. My father before me 
used to keep his money in a tea canister, and 
I myself — I was always a little bit supersti- 
tious about banks. You know, they bust 
sometimes, and that would be worse than hav- 
ing the money go to the bottom of Davy Jones’ 
Locker; so I finally deposited the chest with 
the express company.” 

“And is it there now?” asked Paul with wide- 
open eyes. 

“You bet it is — or at least it should be,” 
said the sick man. 

“Have you anything to show for it?” inter- 
rupted Mrs. Hawkins. 

“Of course.” 

“What is it?” queried Paul. 

The sick man motioned his listeners to lift 
him up from the pillow. They did so after a 
great effort. He sat upright, breathing 
heavily. His next act was to strip off his outer 


Captain Hawkins Embarks on a Journey ^3 

shirt. There hanging around his neck was a 
bit of tarred string and suspended to it and 
resting on his red underwear was a tiny 
chamois bag. 

“Take it off/’ he gasped. 

Paul did so with much difficulty. 

“Open it.” 

The bag was opened and the boy pulled 
forth a big brass check. 

“That entitles the bearer to the cedar chest,” 
whispered the sick man, smiling at his own 
ingenuity. 

Paul looked at the round object long and 
curiously. 

“Put this in the bag,” ordered the Captain, 
his voice becoming husky. 

He handed Paul a brass key, the size ordi- 
narily used in the door of a dwelling. 

“That will open the chest,” he said, smiling 
at the woman and the boy. 

The solemnity of the scene made them 
speechless. The dying man was easily the 
most self-possessed of the three. He signaled 
to Paul. 

“Take off your sweater.” 

The boy did so with trembling hands. 

“Now kneel down.” 

Paul obeyed. 

Again the sick man raised himself up in the 


^4* Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey 

bed. He took the string with the little bag 
and passing it over the boy’s head hung it about 
his neck. 

“Never take that off until you get the 
chest.” 

Paul nodded a silent promise. 

“How is he to go after it?” ventured the 
woman. 

“I was waiting for that,” said the sailor, 
with a self-satisfied look, “and I’ll soon give 
you the answer. Paul, you’re to be the master 
of the Water Witch/^ 

The boy stared so hard that his two eyes 
threatened to come out of his head. 

“Yes,” nodded the sick man, “I mean just 
what I say; nothing more nor less. I char- 
tered the Water Witch for three years. It’s 
now March; the time won’t be up until July. 
She’s provisioned and the crew have all been 
paid in advance. I want you to take her to 
Spanishtown and get that chest and sail back 
with it to your aunt, and she’ll deal with you 
in a way that will satisfy you, won’t you. 
Mother?” 

The tears glistened in the woman’s eyes. 
She bowed her head and said brokenly: 

“Paul and I will never quarrel. We are 
too well acquainted for that.” 

In the midst of his grief the boy tried to 
consider his romantic mission in a business 


Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey 25 

light. He thought for a few moments and 
when he spoke it was to say: 

“None of the men on the Water Witch 
knows me.” 

“I guess Job Singleton knows you,” mur- 
mured the Captain. “He’s the first mate, and 
when you explain the situation to him, he’ll 
help you. He’d do anything for Jim Haw- 
kins.” 

“Will I tell him about the chest?” 

“No! no!” cried the man excitedly, “you 
must keep that a secret from every one. 
That’s why I’m sending you on the mission. 
Only reveal it in case it’s absolutely necessary 
to save the chest.” 

“I think. Uncle,” said the boy, “you’d better 
give me a line to some one on the Water 

Witchr 

The Captain nodded his assent. A table 
was quickly drawn to the bedside; pen, paper 
and ink were procured, and after much shift- 
ing and heavy breathing, the sick man managed 
to scrawl the following: 

“To whom it may concern: 

“I authorize the bearer to take 
command of the Water Witch, 

“James Hawkins.” 

Paul blotted the note, and folding it care- 
fully, placed it in his pocket. There was a 


^6 Captain Hawhins Embarks on a Journey 

silence lasting for some moments. Mrs. 
Hawkins was the first to break it. She turned 
to Paul anxiously: 

“Do you think you can locate this Spanish- 
town?” 

“He can’t miss it,” spoke the sailor with a 
grim smile. “It’s only about ten miles from 
Kingston. As soon as you get into the harbor, 
boy, look toward the shore; you’ll see a long 
white-washed building with a cupola and a 
clock tower. That’s the market house. 
Directly alongside of it is the express com- 
pany’s office where the cedar chest is de- 
posited.” 

An unspoken query came to the tip of 
Paul’s tongue. The solemnity of the scene 
could not repress it. He blurted out: 

“Wasn’t it a mighty risky thing to leave a 
chest of gold in such a place?” 

A look of deep cunning overspread the 
man’s face. He chuckled softly to himself. 

“That’s the clever part of it. No one will 
ever suspect that travel-stained box. The man 
I gave it to believes the chest is filled with old 
clothes. Everybody else will think the same.” 

Neither the boy nor the woman felt con- 
vinced, but they made no attempt to argue the 
question. Indeed, they pretended to agree 
with the wisdom of what he had done. He 
turned to Paul eagerly: 


Captain Hawkins Embarks on a Journey 

“Now you understand it all?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You have the check and the key of the 
chest and the order to Job Singleton?” 

“I have all of those things.” 

“Very well,” and the patient sank back on 
his pillow with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“Who are the owners of the Water Witch?'' 
asked Paul as an afterthought. 

“Hazleberry & Company of New York,” 
answered the Captain. “You’ll find all of 
that in the ship’s papers. If all goes well you 
can turn the steamer over to them in July 
when my lease expires. If she should sink,” 
and the speaker gave an uncanny laugh that 
made the boy shiver, “it don’t make any dif- 
ference to them, for they’ll get the insur- 
ance.” 

Mrs. Hawkins was fearful of the effort of 
the prolonged conversation on the sick man. 

“I think we’d better let the Captain rest,” 
she suggested to Paul. 

The Captain overheard the remark. 

“All right,” he said, “you may go for 
awhile, but remember all I’ve told you, boy, 
and don’t fail to start off to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 

“But,” expostulated Paul, “to leave you 
when you are so ill, I — ” 

The Captain pounded his fist against the 


S8 Captain Hawkins Embarks on a Journey 

headboard. He was accustomed to obedience. 
He repeated his order in a loud voice. 

“To-morrow morning — go, whether I’m 
alive or dead.” 

Paul bowed his head. 

“Promise me,” insisted the sick man in a 
querulous voice. 

“I promise.” 

A satisfied expression flitted across the face 
of the stricken one. 

“Leave me now; I think I hear the doctor’s 
step on the stairway.” 

They left the room together but found no 
one on the outside. There had been footsteps 
on the stairway, but they were not the doctor’s. 
Indeed, while the dying man told his story to 
the woman and the boy, and when he handed 
the key of the chest to Paul Parker, a head 
had been thrust into the partially opened door- 
way. A pair of eager eyes had drunk in 
every word of the strange story, and a pair of 
glittering, beady eyes had watched every action 
that had taken place in the sick-room. 

The eager ears and beady eyes belonged to 
Bill Rambo. 

An hour later Paul hurriedly summoned the 
priest, and the dying sailor was given the con- 
solations and the last rites of the Church of 
wliich he had always been a loyal member. 


CHAPTER III 


PAUL BOARDS THE ‘'wATER WITCH” AND FINDS 
HIMSELF IN A CURIOUS PREDICAMENT 

P>EFORE the sun went down the following 
^ day. Captain Hawkins had gone on that 
last journey which each member of the human 
family must take. Reluctantly, Paul Parker 
left the sorrowing widow and securing a small 
boat, rowed out to the Water Witch, It was 
almost dark when he reached the steamer. He 
found a seaman on guard and revealed his 
identity to the man. 

“I’d hke to speak to Job Singleton, the first 
mate,” he said. 

“Sorry,” said the sailor, “but the mate’s 
gone ashore. As soon as he heard of the death 
of Captain Hawkins, he left the ship, but said 
he’d be back as soon as possible.” 

“You know,” said Paul, “I’m the nephew 
of Captain Hawkins.” 

The man .bowed awkwardly and saluted 
with his left hand. 

“A very good Captain he was. We’ll all 
be mighty lucky if we get another like him.” 

29 


30 'Paul Boards the Water Witch 

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” said the 
boy with a grateful look on his bright young 
face. “We loved him and it’s a satisfaction 
to know that he was liked by the men.” 

There was a silence for some minutes. 
Presently the seaman asked in a respectful 
way: 

“I understood, Mr. Parker, that we were 
to sail from here at once. Will the death of 
the Captain change our plans?” 

It was the first time Paul had ever been ad- 
dressed as a man, and it made him feel a bit 
foolish, but he recovered quickly and replied: 

“No, it will make no difference. It was 
Captain Hawkins’ last wish that the Water 
Witch should start on its journey to-day. 
That’s why I wished to see Mr. Singleton.” 

“Well, he should be back within an hour.” 

“Can we get away to-night?” asked Paul. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

‘Why?” 

“Well, there’s a hurricane coming up now, 
and the boat’s in a safe harbor. It would be 
a foolish risk to expose her for the sake of a 
few hours. This will blow over during the 
night and w^e can start off bright and early in 
the morning.” 

“But,” said Paul, fretfully, “Captain 
Hawkins said we were to sail to-day without 
fail.” 


Paul Boards the Water Witch 


31 


The man looked steadily at Paul for a few 
moments. He carefully removed his cud of 
tobacco and tossed it overboard; he put his 
hands on his hips and speaking very deliber- 
ately, said: 

“I’m a pretty good sailor, ain’t I?” 

“I suppose so,” was the dubious reply. 

“And you’re not much of a sailor?” 

“I suppose not,” was the more cheerful re- 
sponse. 

“Well, what’s the result; simply that I know 
what I’m talking about and you don’t.” 

“But,” said Paul, “my only concern is to 
carry out my uncle’s wishes. He said to go 
to-day.” 

“My boy,” said the sailor, “if Captain 
Hawkins was alive and on this ship — and Lord 
knows I wish he was — and knew about the 
hurricane, you couldn’t induce him to leave the 
harbor to-night— no, not if you tried to per- 
suade him with a club.” 

“Do you believe that?” 

“As I believe I’m a sailor.” 

“All right,” said Paul resignedly, “I’ll be- 
lieve it too, and wait ’till morning.” 

“You know,” added the sailor, “Job Single- 
ton will be about later, and if there’s a ghost 
of a show of pulling out to-night, he’ll do it.” 

“That’s true,” agreed the boy; “I’m per- 
fectly satisfied.” 


Paul Boards the Water Witch 

“Are you going with us?” asked the man 
curiously. 

“Oh, yes,” said Paul, drawing himself up 
proudly, “you know I’m to sort of have 
charge.” 

He did not say he was to have supreme com- 
mand. That would sound too much like 
boasting. It would be time enough to speak 
of his full authority when he came to talk it 
over with the first mate. 

“Perhaps you’d like to go to the cabin?” 

“Why, yes, if you don’t mind. I’ll go below 
for awhile.” 

The man escorted him downstairs into a 
roomy apartment fitted up with maps and 
charts. Adjoining this was a smaller room 
tastefully furnished. 

“This was Captain Hawkins’ stateroom,” 
said the sailor, “and I ’spose that you’ll occupy 
it during the trip.” 

“Why, yes,” said Paul, “if the arrangement 
is agreeable to Mr. Singleton.” 

He walked into the small cabin and w^hile he 
was looking about, the sailor very obligingly 
carried down his gripsack and some clothing he 
had brought aboard with him. After that he 
was left alone. He made a quick inventory 
of the little apartment that was to be his 
future home. On the side of the room was 
a long narrow bunk covered with spotless 


Paul Boards the Water Witch 3B 

linen. It was not as generous in its pro- 
portions as the bed to which he was accustomed 
at home, but it looked inviting and comfort- 
able. 

Adjoining the bunk was a miniature roll-top 
desk. It was open and the stationery lay ex- 
posed just as Captain Hawkins had left it 
only a few days before. Three books were 
stuffed into the pigeon-holes of the desk. 
One was the log-book of the Water Witch, 
Paul opened it carelessly, and there before 
him were the entries as they were made day 
by day in his uncle’s big sprawling hand. The 
sight evoked tender memories and the tears 
dropped from his eyes and blurred the open 
pages. The second book was a copy of the 
navigation laws of the United States, while 
the third was a thumb-marked copy of the “The 
Faith of Our Fathers,” which Captain Haw- 
kins, with his simple, manly nature, had read 
over and over again, each time with increasing 
reverence and interest. 

As Paul looked about him he became more 
accustomed to his surroundings. On the wall 
was a wooden model of an Atlantic liner, 
standing out in all of its simplicity and 
strength. The boy glanced at the desk again 
and for the first time noticed a clover-shaped 
frame containing three photographs. One 
was a picture of his uncle in full uniform. 


54 ? Paid Boards the Water Witch 

Opposite it was a speaking likeness of his 
Aunt Susan, while in the center was the 
photograph of an eager, bright-looking child 
with black curly hair. He looked a second 
time ; there could be no doubt about it — it was 
a picture of himself evidently mailed to Cap- 
tain Hawkins by his Aunt Susan. 

At this reminder of his uncle’s love, he 
could restrain his feelings no longer. He 
dropped into the chair and resting his head on 
the open desk, sobbed with all the emotion of 
his young and affectionate nature. Pres- 
ently, he recovered his self-possession. He 
felt half -ashamed of the momentary weakness, 
but experienced also a sense of refreshment 
from having relieved his overwrought feelings. 
He had been under a severe strain from the 
time his uncle reached home until his death. 
For two nights he had been deprived of his 
natural rest and there was little wonder that 
he should find himself exhausted. 

More than an hour had gone by since he 
boarded the boat, and still Job Singleton had 
not returned. Aimlessly the boy picked up 
the book on the laws of navigation and began 
perusing its pages. It was almost dusk, but 
still bright enough to read without the aid of 
artificial light. 

Paul was deeply interested in the science of 
navigation. Indeed, he had already taken a 


Paul Boards the Water Witch 35 

course of study in that branch of seamanship, — 
a course supplemented by actual practice on 
the small boats plying about his home. He 
felt now that the time was close at hand when 
he would be called upon to put his knowledge 
into execution. Consequently he was deeply 
interested in the volume. He continued to 
read until the darkness made further effort im- 
possible. His first thought was to turn on the 
electric light in the cabin, but when he pressed 
the button, he found that it would not re- 
spond. He was about to hunt up the engineer 
and ascertain the difficulty, but on second 
thought, he changed his mind. He laid down 
his book and was soon in a deep reverie, pictur- 
ing the events that had occurred during the 
few days just passed, and speculating upon 
the adventures that lay before him on the 
journey that was to begin in the morning. 

Presently he grew drowsy. The bunk with 
the clean linen looked very inviting ; the mate’s 
invitation was heeded. He closed the door of 
the inner cabin. He hung his coat on a peg 
near the door, first ascertaining that his letter 
of authority addressed to Job Singleton was 
in the manila envelope in which it had been 
placed for safe keeping. He pulled off his 
boots and without undressing, threw himself 
upon the springy mattress. Youth is elastic 
and responsive. Nature asserted itself; in a 


36 Paul Boards the Water Witch 

few minutes he was sound asleep. For hours 
he slept on, obtaining the invigorating repose 
which comes to a young body and mind free 
from the ills which often torture Nature in 
later life. It was morning when his exhaus- 
tion had spent itself, and then he was drowsy 
and only half awake. He imagined himself 
in his comfortable bed at home. He turned 
over on his other side and dreamt of sunny 
skies and a serene sea. 

A little later he was aroused by the persist- 
ent blowing of a fog horn. He opened his 
eyes; his senses returned gradually. He re- 
membered he was sleeping in the cabin of the 
Water Witch, He wondered vaguely whether 
Job Singleton had returned. He reached 
over to turn on the electric light but remem- 
bered that the switch was not working. After 
that he lay still for a long while. Ten or fif- 
teen minutes later he pulled out his watch to 
discover the time. It was ticking merrily 
away, but unfortunately the room was so dark 
that he could not see the face of the faithful 
little instrument. He listened quietly, and 
above the ticking of the watch came the roar- 
ing of the wind. It was the hurricane, filling 
the air with a fury of sound, and rocking the 
boat as if it were a cradle adrift on the waters. 

He jumped out of his berth and groping 
under the bunk, found his boots and pulled 


Taul Boards the Water Witch 87 

them on. In another moment he had dis- 
covered his coat. At that stage of the pro- 
ceedings his eager ear caught a new sound. 
The meaning of it dawned on him by degrees. 
The regular rhythmic grinding, thumping 
noise never ceased. 

The boat was in motion. 

He hurried to the door but it would not 
open. He felt for the key but it was no 
longer in the lock. He grasped the knob of 
the door and pulled with all of his strength, 
but there was no response. After that he sat 
on the edge of the bunk and thought it over 
very carefully. While he sat there a sudden 
lurch of the boat threw him from his perch 
and he was thrown to the floor and bumped his 
head against the side of the cabin. It made a 
nasty bruise and it caused him pain, but he 
gave no heed to that. Recovering his feet he 
reached for the handle of the door again, but 
the effort was fruitless. The barrier was im- 
movable. In a sudden outburst of wrath he 
beat on the panels of the wood with all his 
strength. He kept this up until his knuckles 
began to bleed, but the roaring of the wind 
on the outside drowned out the sound made 
by his puny fists — so much more powerful is 
Nature than man. 

He had strong lungs, and when the beating 
on the door proved ineffectual, he began to 


38 'Paul Boards the Water Witch 

shout at the top of his voice. He kept this 
up for several minutes until the shout de- 
generated into a shriek, but the answering 
winds seemed to mock his boyish efforts. 
Presently he dropped on the floor exhausted 
by his efforts. As he sat there, he vaguely 
remembered that when he had gone to sleep, 
the key was on the inside of the cabin. It was 
not there now. The conviction slowly forced 
itself upon his dazed mind. This thing was 
not an accident; it was intentional. 

He was a prisoner in the cabin of the Water 
Witch, 


CHAPTER IV 


PAUL MEETS A NEW FRIEND AND DISCOVERS 
AN OLD ENEMY 

T^or a long while Paul lay on the floor of 
the cabin considering his peculiar situation. 
He knew that it would be folly to continue his 
outcries while the hurricane lasted. Presently 
fatigue overcame him and he went to sleep for 
the second time. How long he slept he did not 
know, but when he awoke, the wind had abated 
and the sun was shining through the heavy 
plate glass window in the porthole. He 
jumped up and involuntarily tried the door. 

It was open. 

He looked on the outside; there was no key 
in the lock. Surprise stupefied the boy. 
After a time, he walked into the outer cabin 
and from thence to the deck. The compan- 
ionway opened on the stern of the boat. No 
one was in sight, so Paul seated himself on a 
coil of rope and looked about him in an effort 
to get his bearings. The sea was as placid as 
a pond and the Water Witch plowed its way 


40 Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 

through the waves with the ease and certainty 
of a great winged bird. It had been bitter 
cold when he left home, and now the wind, 
while still brisk, was greatly tempered. Far 
off in the distance he could see a band of green 
skirting the water’s edge. He felt, vaguely, 
that the steamer must be passing South Caro- 
lina and getting into Southern waters. While 
he was gazing at the sea, his reverie was inter- 
rupted by the sound of tuneful whistling. A 
chubby-faced man with merry eyes and a 
whimsical mouth came husthng toward him. 
The chubby-faced man wore a white cap and 
an apron and was carrying a bag of flour. 
Paul arose. He felt it was time for him to 
be up and doing. He saluted. 

‘T’m Paul Parker!” 

The little man waved his hand with a flour- 
ish. 

‘‘And I’m Mike Moran!” 

“I’m the nephew of Captain Hawkins,” 
added Paul, fearful of losing his dignity in 
an encounter with this elfish-looking person. 

“And I’m the cook of the Water Witch,'' 
said the merry one, flourishing his unoccupied 
hand in grotesque fashion. 

Paul did not smile at this sally, and the com- 
ical fellow assumed a sober expression. 

“I beg pardon,” he said, “no harm meant; 
what can I do for you?” 


41 


t^aul Discovert an Old Enemy 

‘‘I’d like to see Job Singleton — the mate of 
this boat.” 

“I’ll have him here in two shakes of a lamb’s 
tail,” quoth the cook. 

A few minutes later, a tall man with a slight 
stoop ambled toward the stern of the boat. 
He poked out a great big weather-beaten hand. 

“Put it there, youngster.” 

Paul took the outstretched hand. 

“It’s young Paul Parker, as I’m a Yankee. 
Why, boy, when the Captain first showed me 
your picture, you were only a little hit of a 
tot.” 

Paul’s face brightened. Here was a friend 
— and the very one he was most anxious to see. 

“Uncle often wrote about you, Mr. Single- 
ton.” 

“Aye, aye,” cried the mate, “and a whiter 
man never sailed the seas than Jim Hawkins. 
I’m sorry he’s dead and more sorry that I 
couldn’t stay for the funeral.” 

“Did you see Aunt Susan?” asked Paul, cu- 
riously. 

“No, I didn’t. She was that broke up with 
grief that they wouldn’t let no one see her. 
She said Jim was gone and Paul was gone 
and she was left all alone. When my name 
was given to her, she sent word downstairs 
that I was to sail away with the Water Witch 
at once, and when I asked for something more 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 


definite, she said that if I loved the memory of 
her husband, I was to go at once without asking 
any more questions. It was a bit pecuhar at 
first, but it’s all right now — all smooth sailing.” 

Paul wondered how the mate could have 
learned all about the trip so quickly. 

“You’re to sail for Spanishtown,” he said. 

“Oh, I know all about that,” smiled the 
other, taking the pipe from his mouth and 
knocking out the ashes against the rail of the 
boat. 

“You’re to land me there,” persisted Paul. 

“Why, certainly, son, if you want to get off 
there,” assented the mate with a good-natured 
smile. 

“Of course I want to get off there; that’s 
why I’m here.” 

“Oh, very well,” was the cheery response, “I 
don’t s’pose the new Captain will have any ob- 
jections.” 

“I should say not,” said Paul sagely, “inas- 
much as I happen to be the new Captain.” 

At this retort, the mate slapped his brawny 
palm against his knee and laughed in such a 
loud and jolly way that Paul unconsciously 
found himself joining in the merriment. 

J oh Singleton was a wholesome-looking 
man; if he had straightened up he would cer- 
tainly have measured over six feet two. He 
had a pair of mild blue eyes, singularly boyish- 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 43 

looking for a man who has passed his fiftieth 
year. He had a great mane of bushy brown 
hair, liberally streaked with silver threads. 
The smooth upper lip, the bushy whiskers, the 
high forehead, and the quiet, self-contained 
manners made him seem like a superior person 
in an inferior position. This tall, big-limbed 
man, without an ounce of superfiuous flesh on 
his body, had seamanship reduced to a science 
and went through the world breathing good 
will to men. 

After the mate had satisfied his mirth, Paul 
turned to him in a half -apologetic manner. 

“Maybe I didn’t put it to you in the right 
way. Of course, you know I have no desire 
to take actual command of the boat. I only 
wanted you to know that I am here by author- 
ity of my uncle.” 

The giant reached over and patted Paul on 
the shoulder. 

“Why, sonny, you can just put it any way 
that suits you best. We’re not thin-skinned 
about etiquette here and you can count on Job 
Singleton as a friend.” 

“Thank you,” was the grateful response, “I 
may need a friend before this business is over.” 

“This business?” queried the mate, lifting 
his eyebrows, “what do you mean?” 

Instantly Paul realized the embarrassment 
of being weighted down with a great secret. 


44 Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 

He regretted his ill-advised words. He laid 
his hand on the giant’s arm. 

“I can say nothing further now, but if the 
occasion arises, I shall be more explicit.” 

“Yes, do,” grunted Singleton, who had little 
relish for mysteries. 

The mate seated himself beside Paul and 
for ten minutes the man and the boy remained 
there watching the rippling waves which alter- 
nately seemed to change from blue to green. 
The little crests of white, the great expanse of 
foam that followed the track of the steamer, 
and the sea gulls flying past the bow of the ves- 
sel, had a peculiar fascination for both of 
them. Paul’s eyes sparkled at the unwonted 
sight, while Job Singleton relapsed into a con- 
tented silence. The man’s eyes were soft and 
dreamy, and there was an extreme tenderness 
about him that is not commonly associated 
with the average seaman. Presently he lifted 
his hand and pointed in the distance. 

“Do you see that patch of land otF there?” 

Paul confessed that he did not. The man 
handed him a pair of strong glasses. 

“Now do you see it?” 

“Yes; just faintly.” 

“Well, that’s Miami on the coast of Florida. 
We’ll pass that point during the night, and in 
the morning we’ll be opposite the Bahama Is- 
lands. By that time you’ll be glad enough to 


45 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 

take off some of your heavy clothing; you’ll 
find your red sweater just a bit too warm.” 

“How long will it take us to reach Spanish- 
town?” 

“Well,” said the mate, changing his cud de- 
liberately, “I should say it would be a matter 
of four or five days. It all depends on the 
kind of weather we get.” 

“The weather’s fine,” observed Paul. 

“Yes, now,” admitted the mate, “but you 
can’t tell how it will be in twenty-four hours. 
It’s mighty uncertain in this tropical sec- 
tion.” 

Paul made no reply to this. He sat look- 
ing ahead of him vacantly. Suddenly the 
mate took him by the arm. 

“See here, boy; have you had any break- 
fast?” 

“Why, no,” answered Paul hesitatingly, “I 
believe I was forgetting all about it.” 

“That’s a good joke for a sailor,” cried Sin- 
gleton with one of his hearty laughs; “you’ll 
never be a seasoned sailor if you forget about 
your grub.” 

He blew a little whistle. A man responded 
immediately. 

“Tell the cook I want him.” 

In a few moments the merry-looking fellow 
with the white cap and apron stood before 
him. 


46 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 


“Mike,” said the mate, “this boy hasn’t had 
a thing to eat yet; it’s a terrible reflection on 
our hospitality.” 

The cook saluted, but did not deny the soft 
impeachment. 

“What will I get for him?” 

“Anything hot — and get it in a hurry.” 

“Where will I serve it?” 

“In the main cabin. I’ll stay there and keep 
him company.” 

In less than ten minutes the cook returned 
carrying a tray filled with edibles. While he 
was spreading it on the cabin table the mate 
said to Paul: 

“After this things will move along more 
smoothly. You see, we had to get out in a 
hurry and almost forgot about you.” 

Paul started in on the bacon and eggs with 
a rehsh. He ate as only a growing and healthy 
boy can eat. The coffee, smoking hot, tasted 
delicious. As he finished the second cup, he 
turned to the mate with a smile. 

“You didn’t forget about me last night.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you took the trouble to lock me in 
the Captain’s cabin.” 

Singleton stared at the boy so long and so 
steadily that Paul became uncomfortable. 

“Have I said anything improper?” he ven- 
tured. 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 47 

“Please repeat your remark,” ordered the 
mate. 

“I merely said you locked me in the cabin 
last night.” 

Singleton drew a long breath. 

“I never did anything of the kind.” 

Paul laughed uneasily. 

“I suppose it was only a joke.” 

“It wasn’t a joke or anything else,” repeated 
the mate emphatically. “I never locked you 
in. That’s hardly my notion of humor.” 

“But I was locked in,” persisted Paul. 

“How did you get out this morning?” 

“I found the door unlocked.” 

“Was the key in it?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I’ll be darned.” 

“It wasn’t very pleasant,” suggested Paul. 

“I should say not,” admitted Singleton, “and 
I’d like to find out the man that did it. I can’t 
imagine who’d play such monkey shines on 
this ship. None of the men would dare 
to come in the cabin and they would have 
to come in here to turn the key of 
the stateroom. Why didn’t you give the 
alarm?” 

“I did, but no one seemed to hear me.” 

“That’s so; the gale was blowing like fury, 
and we were all on deck most of the night.” 

By this time Paul had finished his break- 


48 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 


fast. The mate started to go up the stairway 
and motioned the boy to follow him. 

“Come on,” he said, “you’d better get ac- 
quainted with all hands. After that. I’ll try 
to get at the secret of this locking-in busi- 
ness.” 

Paul followed Job Singleton up the steps, 
feeling very much refreshed by his breakfast. 
As his head reached the top of the companion- 
way, he looked casually toward the bow of the 
^ Water Witch, He noticed a man standing 
beside the pilot house. There was something 
strangely familiar about the fellow’s broad 
back. Unconsciously Paul paused and began 
to ransack his memory to recall where he had 
seen that form before. Just at this moment 
the man turned and exposed his face to the 
gaze of the boy. 

Paul gasped. 

There could be no mistaking those beady 
eyes; that red, swollen face; the stubby nose 
and the leering lips, tightly grasping the short- 
stemmed pipe. 

It was Bill Rambo. 

The boy stood on the steps motionless. The 
mate turned to him, half impatiently: 

“Why don’t you come up?” 

Paul pointed his finger in the direction of 
Rambo. 

“Who is that man?” 


Paul Discovers an Old Enemy 


49 


The mate looked searchingly at the bulky 
figure before replying, then he said carelessly: 

“That; oh, that’s the new Captain of the 
Water Witch 


CHAPTER V 


BILL KAMBO DEMONSTRATES THAT HE IS A PER- 
SON WHO MUST BE CONSIDERED 

F or fully half a minute, Paul Parker stood 
in silence staring at Bill Rambo. The 
mate’s words rang in his ears, “that’s the new 
Captain of the Water Witchf^ Job Single- 
ton, unconscious of the fact that Paul had 
not followed him, strode toward the bow of 
the boat and engaged in conversation with 
Rambo. The boy looked at them for a few 
moments longer, and then retreated to the 
cabin. The mere presence of the disreputa- 
ble one was ominous. The fact that he was 
masquerading as the Captain of the Water 
Witch made the situation critical, if not per- 
ilous. 

Paul felt that he must have time to think 
the situation over calmly and deliberately, so 
he retired into his stateroom and, locking the 
door, sat on his bunk and tried to collect his 
thoughts. To begin with, he had no doubt 
that Rambo was the man who had imprisoned 
him in the room the night before. The pur- 


Bill Rambo 


51 


pose was evident ; the man wanted time 
enough to impose himself upon Job Singleton 
as the authorized skipper of the vessel. At 
this thought, Paul instantly recalled the letter 
he was to present to the mate, and the key of 
the golden chest which Captain Hawkins had 
hung about his neck. Instinctively he rushed 
to his coat and felt in the inside pocket. He 
breathed a sigh of relief. The envelope was 
there, perfectly safe and sound. After that 
he reached for the bag. It hung about his 
neck just as it had been placed there by his 
uncle. 

The question now was what should be done 
with the impostor. Paul, while courageous 
enough, had a fair share of prudence, so he 
considered the question from all points of 
view. Should he risk a quarrel with Bill 
Rambo by telling the truth? Or would it be 
wise to close his eyes to the imposition by 
simply pretending that he was on his uncle’s 
boat for the purpose of taking a pleasure 
trip? He debated the question for some min- 
ute. To keep silent now might lead to trou- 
blesome complications in the future. Besides, 
it looked cowardly to dodge the issue. His 
decision was soon made. He would expose 
the adventurer, and, as long as it was neces- 
sary to do so, he would expose him in a dra- 
matic and eff ective way. Paul put on his coat 


52 


Bill Ramho 


and hastened to the deck. The mate and the 
false master were still talking. Paul walked 
toward them in a resolute manner. Single- 
ton, who was facing him, nodded carelessly. 
Ramho did not see him at first. The boy 
planted himself in such a position that he could 
look the big fellow square in the eye. He 
felt, somehow, that when Ramho turned and 
saw him there, he would discard his mask and 
confess to the deception. He resolved, on his 
part, to waste no time with affected polite- 
ness. He cleared his throat and exclaimed 
loudly: 

“Bill Ramho!” 

The bulky form turned slowly until the lit- 
tle beady eyes looked directly at the boy, but 
there was no surprise or fear there ; only a half 
sneer and a grin of amusement. 

“Hello, sonny.” 

This form of salutation was slightly dis- 
concerting. It detracted from the dignity 
which Paul was trying his best to maintain. 
He braced up, however, and said sharply: 

“I suppose you know who I am?” 

The Goliath of the quarter-deck calmly sur- 
veyed this new David before replying. He 
actually laughed, and when he spoke his sting- 
ing words were delivered with indifferent tol- 
erance: 


Bill Ramho 


‘‘Why, sure ; you’re the brat that pinched my 
fingers up at Captain Hawkins’ house.” 

Paul’s face crimsoned. He spoke hotly: 

“Yes, where you were eavesdropping.” 

“Paul! Paul!” expostulated Job Single- 
ton, taking him by the arm, “that’s no way to 
talk to your superior.” 

“He’s not my superior!” blurted the boy. 

“Come, come,” said the mate, annoyed, “you 
must not talk that way.” 

“Let the kid have his swing,” interrupted 
Ramho, “I don’t mind it.” 

“But I do,” insisted the mate. “We can’t 
stand for that sort of thing on shipboard.” 

“I’ve got something to say to you,” said 
Paul, defiantly. 

“Say it.” 

“I will; call all hands on deck to hear it.” 

Job Singleton was about to express himself 
in a decisive manner, but Ramho interrupted 
him. 

“Humor him; as long as I don’t mind, you 
needn’t care.” 

The loud talking attracted several of the 
men. They stood about with wide open 
mouths. The mate would have dismissed 
them, but something in the boy’s manner de- 
terred him. 

“Mr. Singleton and men!” cried Paul in a 


54 < 


Bill Ramho 


loud voice, “I am here to perform a duty to the 
dead and to you.’’ 

No one stirred; no one spoke. 

“I am here to denounce that man,” he con- 
tinued, pointing his finger in the direction of 
Bill Ramho, “as a fraud and an impostor.” 

There were some eager faces among the 
spectators. Every eye turned to Ramho to 
see how he would take this sort of talk, but the 
man was absolutely impassive. There was 
just the suspicion of a sneer about his lips, but 
he kept them closed with marvelous self-re- 
straint. The mate was the only man who 
moved. He stepped toward Paul and said 
sharply : 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that this man who is parading as 
the Captain of the Water Witch has no au- 
thority for holding the position.” 

“Who has?” 

“I have.” 

“Do you mean to say that you are author- 
ized to act as the Captain of this vessel?” 

“That’s just what I mean to say.” 

The men crowded closer; they had been re- 
inforced by arrivals from below. For the 
moment, all discipline was forgotten. Once 
again every eye turned to Bill Rambo. He 
was expected to speak. He calmly stuck his 
hand in his pocket, and pulling out a plug of 


Bill Rambo 


55 


tobacco, cut a big piece off and began rubbing 
it together for smoking purposes. The mate 
turned to him: 

“You hear the boy?” 

“Well, I’m not deaf.” 

“What have you got to say about it?” 

“It seems to me,” said Rambo, “that you’ve 
got all the say. You’re second in command. 
If you are going to have any order or system 
on this boat, you’d better settle this difficulty 
here and now.” 

“I agree with you,” answered the mate de- 
cisively; “I’ll do it.” 

“That sounds like business,” grinned the 
other. 

“Well, the boy claims the right to sail the 
ship.” 

“I met a sailor once who claimed to be the 
King of England,” retorted Rambo. “He 
couldn’t get any one to believe him, though.” 

“You mean — ” 

“I mean that if I were you, I’d ask the boy 
to show his authority.” 

The mate turned to Paul: 

“You’ve made a serious claim; have you 
any authority to back it up ?” 

“I have,” replied Paul. “I’ve a letter from 
Captain Hawkins which explains every- 
thing.” 

Every eye turned from Bill Rambo and was 


56 


Bill Ramho 


leveled on the boy. He put his hand in his 
pocket, and, pulling out the precious envel- 
ope, handed it to Job Singleton. 

“Just look at that,” he said with the jaunt- 
iness due, no doubt, to extreme youth. 

The mate took the little square thing, and, 
putting his hand in it, pulled out a brown sheet 
of paper. He opened it carefully, — the sheet 
was perfectly blank. 

Paul gasped for breath. 

The mate swore softly. 

“If this is a practical joke, it’s gone too 
far.” 

“It’s no joke,” said Paul bitterly. 

Ramho, who had stepped into the back- 
ground, was leering at him in a mahgnant 
manner. The boy caught the man’s gaze and 
it did not reassure him. 

“I had a letter.” 

“Possibly,” assented the mate. “All I want 
to know is whether you can produce authority 
of any sort.” 

The boy fished through every one of his 
pockets, but the search was fruitless. He had 
no credentials. 

The men began to laugh. One of them 
made a remark concerning the wise old saying 
that children should be seen and not heard. 
The mate turned on them quickly: 

“Go back to your posts at once.” 


Bill Rambo 


57 


The sailors started to leave and Paul moved 
off with them. Singleton tapped him on the 
shoulder. 

“One moment, please.” 

The boy halted. The mate turned to Bill 
Rambo. 

“Messmate,” said Singleton, with a touch of 
the eloquence which he sometimes displayed 
when very much in earnest, “the boy has not 
been able to give me anything to back up his 
claim, but come to think of it, that does not 
settle your claim. Now, I think it is only fair 
to ask if you can prove your authority to 
take charge of this ship?” 

“You bet I can,” mumbled Rambo, “I’m 
always on hand with the goods.” 

“What have you?” 

“I’ll soon show you,” he said, diving into his 
back pocket. “The last act of Captain 
Hawkins’ life was to give me this author- 
ity. I s’pose that’s what made the boy so 
jealous.” 

Paul felt himself growing faint. What in 
the world could Rambo have to show Single- 
ton. The suspense did not last long. The 
big fellow finally picked out one letter from a 
number of others and handed it to the mate. 

“Just cast your optics over that.” 

Singleton read it slowly and laboriously. 
After that he droned it out aloud for the 


58 


Bill Rambo 


benefit of the young claimant. It was as fol- 
lows: 

whom it may concern: 

“I authorize the bearer to take 
command of the Water Witch. 

“James Hawkins.” 

Paul, standing on tiptoe, read the letter in 
the mate’s hand. He had been robbed. His 
heart sank. He, who had expected to do so 
much, had failed dismally. Bill Rambo was 
master of the situation. 


CHAPTER VI 


BILL RAMBO, TAKING CHARGE OF THE ‘VaTER 
WITCH,” PROVES HIS ABILITY TO THREATEN 
AND COMMAND 

rr^HE next morning Bill Rambo assumed 
^ command of the Water Witch, and from 
the way he went about it, there could be no 
doubt but that he knew his business. He gave 
his orders in a loud voice, and the sailors recog- 
nized in it the ring of authority. He had 
dressed a bit for the part, too, and presented 
quite an imposing appearance. He had 
treated himself to a clean shave and that made 
a noticeable difference in the broad red face. 
To be sure, it was still far from handsome, 
but beauty counts for little on the rolling 
deep. His first visit was to the pilot house. 
The man at the wheel turned, but before he 
could say anything, Rambo had spoken in his 
quick, authoritative way. 

“How do you find things, Davidson?” 
“Everything fair. Captain,” said the man; 
“we’re just off the Bahama Islands.” 

The cluster of miniature islands off the 
59 


60 Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 

coast of Florida shone and sparkled in the 
sunlight with the brilliancy of beautiful gems 
in a greenish setting. The air was mild and 
balmy, and it was necessary to discard part of 
the heavy clothing that had been merely com- 
fortable when the steamer left Lewes. The 
Captain proceeded on his rounds. Moving 
along the deck, he passed the galley. The 
cook was hard at work peeling potatoes. 

“Mike, your coffee this morning wasn’t fit 
for a pig to drink.” 

“Why, I-” 

“No arguments; no explanations,” cried the 
Captain, cutting the man off abruptly; “what 
we need is better cooking. If you don’t give 
it to us, we’ll know the reason why.” 

Before Mike Moran could recover his 
breath, the Captain had hurried on and was 
harrying other members of the crew. His 
purpose was evident. He meant to establish 
his authority in a way that could not be ques- 
tioned. He stumbled against a man lying on 
the deck, half asleep. Rambo gave him a de- 
liberate kick. 

“Get out of there, you lazy dog, and shake 
a leg.” 

The man got up and limped away with the 
downcast look of a beaten cur. This non- 
resistance fed the vanity and the cruelty of 
the new Captain, The beady eyes seemed to 


Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 61 

have sunk deeper than ever in the man’s head, 
and they shone with an air of undisguised 
malignity. The stubby nose stuck out with 
unusual aggressiveness. The straight mouth 
with the drawn ends sneered perpetually. 
Bill Rambo abandoned his blue collarless coat, 
his knit jacket and his old trousers and had 
replaced them with a faded blue suit with 
brass buttons he had found in the Captain’s 
room. As he bustled along a tiny stream of 
tobacco juice ran down the side of his mouth. 
He carelessly lifted up his big left hand and 
wiped the back of it across his mouth, which, 
it must be confessed, was a very uncaptain- 
like act. 

The chief mate and Paul Parker were 
standing near the stern of the boat. The boy 
had slept in the mate’s stateroom the night 
before. Singleton turned to him. 

“The Captain’s coming; be polite; he has 
the whip-hand.” 

“Hello,” sneered Rambo, “what are you two 
whispering about?” 

“About nothing improper, Captain,” said 
the mate with a salute. 

“You seem to be very good friends.” 

“Quite natural for me to have a friendly 
feeling toward the nephew of my late Cap- 
tain,” observed Singleton coolly. 

“Well, your late Captain’s not in command 


62 Ramho Takes Charge of the Water Witch 


now; your duty is to your present Captain — 
and I’m that man.” 

Singleton saluted again with irritating 
precision. 

‘‘I know you and I know my duty,” he said. 
“I don’t think you’ll have any reason to com- 
plain.” 

“What were you saying to the boy when I 
came along?” demanded Ramho sharply. 

“I was just giving him some advice,” re- 
plied the mate. 

“What kind of advice?” this threateningly. 

“Good advice,” this very softly. 

The new Captain swore to himself. He 
was about to walk away when he changed his 
mind and once again faced the man and the 
boy. 

“I might as well have you understand my 
position here; I’m the Captain of this boat.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Singleton glibly. 

Paul was silent. 

Ramho gave him a fierce look out of his 
small eyes. 

“What about you? You’re quiet.” 

Paul caught the significant glance of the 
mate, and turning to the Captain, said with 
parrot-like quickness : 

“Aye, aye, sir.” 

This meaningless answer mollified Ramho. 

“Boy,” he said, “I ’spose I ought to throw 


Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 63 

you overboard for your impudence to your 
superiors, but I won’t. I’m going to give you 
a chance. You can take it or leave it. I’m 
going to make you the errand boy of this boat. 
Does that hurt your sailor pride? Eh?” 

Paul was silent. 

“Because if it does, I’ll set you to swabbing 
off the decks and emptying the garbage for 
the cook. It’s quite a come-down from being 
the Captain of the boat to acting as chief bottle 
washer for the cook, isn’t it?” 

Warned by a glance from the mate, Paul 
responded with a mechanical: 

“Aye, aye, sir.” 

“That’s about all for the present,” said 
Rambo, “but if you come any of your funny 
business, you’ll make a nice tasty bit for the 
sharks.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Paul, from force 
of habit. 

“As for you. Mate,” said the speaker, “I’ll 
thank you to have a little better discipline on 
board this boat. The men don’t seem to un- 
derstand their position. I passed a fellow a 
little while agawho forgot to salute. I’m go- 
ing below now to take a snooze and I expect 
every man to do his duty.” 

He made his way to the staircase and went 
down into the cabin. Paul drew a breath of 
relief. Singleton proceeded about his work. 


64 Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 


An hour later they met again. Paul drew up 
to him a trifle timidly. The mate was such a 
reticent man that he scarcely knew how to take 
him. Finally he found courage to speak. 

“Mr. Singleton,” he said earnestly, ‘T told 
you the truth. That paper was given to me 
by my uncle. Rambo’s a fraud.” 

“Not so loud; not so loud,” whispered the 
mate. 

“But I’m telling you the truth.” 

“I know it, and I believe you, but we must 
act cautiously or all will be lost. Bill Rambo’s 
a desperate man. He’s taking big chances, 
and we can’t be too careful.” 

“I’m so glad you believe in me.” 

“Of course I do, but we’ve got to get our 
bearings, lad. I’ve been sizing up the situa- 
tion ever since we had the scene yesterday. 
I’ve figured it out that Rambo has the best of 
us now.” 

“How?” 

“Why, he’s stolen the ship — ^that’s the long 
and short of it.” 

“But how could he do that?” 

Singleton smiled grimly. 

“He’s done it; that’s how.” 

“But you and the crew; you’re all faithful 
to my uncle?” 

“Yes, what’s left of us.” 

“What do you mean?” 


Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 65 

‘‘I mean, that counting you and me, there 
are only six persons on the Water Witch we 
can depend upon.” 

‘‘But the others?” 

“They are all men belonging to Rambo. 
He brought them on the boat at Lewes. The 
other members of the original crew are still on 
land wondering why we sailed without them.” 

“When did you discover this?” 

“Just after we sailed.” 

“Why didn’t you prevent it?” 

“How could I when Rambo was in com- 
mand? He gave me a plausible tale in the be- 
ginning. Since then he’s backed it up with 
the written authority of Captain Hawkins.” 

Paul Parker sat still for a long while, a look 
of blank wonder on his young face. His 
thirst for information was unsatisfied. 

“How many can Rambo depend on?” 

“Nine,” was the laconic reply. 

“Then it’s nine to six?” said Paul. 

“That appears to be the score,” grinned the 
mate. 

Suddenly the boy’s face brightened. 

“I think you’ve forgotten some of the men. 
Nine and six make fifteen. We’ve eighteen on 
board.” 

“Very true,” admitted the mate, “but three 
of them are what we call neutrals or non-com- 
batants.” 


66 Ramho Takes Charge of the Water Witch 

“Who are they?” 

“The engineer and the two firemen.” 

“But they might be with us in a pinch,” in- 
sisted Paul eagerly. 

“Yes, they might,” was the skeptical re- 
sponse. “You never can telL” 

“Who are our friends?” asked the boy. 

“Well, you and I — ^we’re all right,” said the 
mate, smiling at Paul’s persistence. 

“Yes, and who else?” 

“Mike Moran, the cook; I know we can 
count on him.” 

“And the others?” 

“The others are three of the crew — ^they 
sailed around the Horn with me twice. I 
know they’ll stand by me until the last ditch.” 

“How about the second mate?” 

“Eli Dutton?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, he’ll stick to Ramho. They’re birds 
of a feather. You can depend on it they’ll 
hang together.” 

“Have you thought about Mark Logan?” 

“Oh, yes; he’s the handy man about the 
boat; he’s not worth thinking about.” 

“Why not?” 

“He’ll be with Ramho sure.” 

“But I saw the Captain — I mean Rambo — 
kick him this morning. He walked off with a 
nasty look on his face.” 


Rambo Takes Charge of the Water Witch 67 

“That don’t make any difference. Kicks 
don’t count with a fellow like that. The 
worse you treat ’em, the closer they stick to 
you.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Paul, shak- 
ing his head doubtfully. “Human nature is 
human nature.” 

“Yes,” said the mate bitterly. “When 
you’ve seen more of some kinds of human 
nature, you won’t feel so confident about it. 
He’s the sort of fellow that will be for the 
boss no matter how badly the boss treats him.” 

The weather was perfect and the Water 
Witch sailed along as smoothly and as swiftly 
as a bird with outstretched wings. They were 
still within sight of the Bahama Islands, and 
the fragrance of those sweet-smelling haunts 
of perpetual summer was wafted across the 
decks of the boat. There was scarcely a ripple 
on the waters, and the sky was unflecked with 
a single cloud. Paul carried a message to the 
man at the wheel, and also did some odd chores 
for the mate. After that he lay on the broad 
of his back on one of the hatches and gazed at 
the blue vault above him. The treachery on 
the boat was in such contrast to the frankness 
of Nature that the boy, for the time being, for- 
got his surroundings. While he lay there the 
mate passed him. 

“Eli Dutton and Bill Rambo are in the cabin 


68 Ramho Takes Charge of the Water Witch 

together,” he whispered. “They have a bot- 
tle of rum between them, and I’ve no doubt 
they are cooking up some deviltry.” 

Paul could not forbear a gentle smile. The 
placid waters and the beautiful sky seemed 
like a benediction; above everything so fair, 
and below, foul plotting. He remained there 
for some time. After that he hunted up the 
chief mate. An idea had occurred to him. 

“Mr. Singleton,” he said, “y^^ 
six of the old men were left ashore at Lewes. 
Won’t they be surprised?” 

“Surprise won’t be no name for it,” cried 
the mate. “I know sailors when they’re left 
ashore. They’ll be going around like a lot of 
chickens with their heads off.” 

“Won’t they suspect something’s wrong?” 

“They’ll be sure of it. I don’t know any- 
thing as suspicious as a sailor. There’ll 
surely be something doing in the old town of 
Lewes.” 

“Don’t you think they’ll be likely to go to 
Aunt Susan with their troubles?” 

“She’ll be the first one they’ll go to.” 

“That sounds good for us.” 

“Sure. She’ll talk to some of the author- 
ities in the town and when they find that Bill 
Rambo has disappeared and that those sailors 
have been left behind, they’ll know that some- 
thing crooked’s going on.” 


Ramho Tahes Charge of the Water Witch 69 


‘What will they do?” 

“I’m not a mind reader, my son, but I think 
it’s dollars to cents that they’ll contrive to 
notify the United States Consul at Jamaica. 
In that event Bill Ramho will be met at the 
wharf by an official of our government to 
whom he’ll have to give an account of his do- 
ings.” 

“That makes me feel hopeful,” said the boy. 

Singleton smiled. 

“Hopeful! I’m more than hopeful. All 
we have to do, as the saying goes, is to sit still 
and not rock the boat, and we’ll come out all 
right.” 


CHAPTER VII 


PAUL ASTONISHES A FORMER FOE BY RETURN- 
ING GOOD FOR EVIL 

O N the morning of the fourth day, the 
Water Witch passed out of sight of the 
Bahama Islands and came within spy-glass 
view of the Windward Channel, that water- 
way of commerce which has Cuba on one side 
and San Domingo on the other. Paul Parker, 
who stood in front of the pilot house, hungrily 
drinking in the magnificent panorama that lay 
unrolled before him, realized that they were 
in the tropics. The air was warm and balmy 
without being oppressive. The sea was 
dotted with little fragments of islands, most 
of them too insignificant for habitation. 
Gazing at one of these cubes of land through 
a pair of strong glasses, Paul beheld a great 
bed of pansies in full bloom. The beauty of 
this unexpected sight, and the fragrance it 
suggested, stood out in marked contrast with 
the final blasts of chilly winter which they had 
left behind only a few days before. 

While Paul was admiring the wonders of 

70 


71 


Taut Astonishes a Former Fnemy 

Nature, Bill Rambo and Eli Dutton, the sec- 
ond mate, were in the cabin deadening what 
little sensibility they possessed with the aid of 
a bottle of Scotch whisky. “The new Cap- 
tain,” as Job Singleton insisted upon calling 
him, had discovered a case of spirits in one of 
the lockers, and immediately started in to en- 
joy it as one of the perquisites of his self- 
appointed position. 

“Dutton,” said the big fellow with heavy 
solemnity, “are you sure the Water Witch is 
known in the West Indies?” 

“Better than I am,” answered the mate, 
helping himself to another glass of rum. 

“And you say Singleton and the kid expect 
to recover the ship when we run into Jamaica.” 

“I didn’t say that,” corrected Dutton. 
“What I said was that I overheard the mate 
and the kid talking about the possibilities after 
we reached shore. They said what I know and 
everybody knows, and that is that the Water 
Witch is a marked ship. Her white sides and 
her big white smokestack are known to every 
seafaring man in this part of the globe. Con- 
sequently, if word got to Jamaica that she’d 
been stolen, we’d all be nabbed the minute we 
touched dry land.” 

“Do you think so?” asked Rambo, staring 
at him through bleary eyes. 

“I don’t think so; I know so. This sea 


7 ^ 


Paul Astonishes a Former Fnemy 


law’s an awful thing. I know it because I’ve 
been up against it.” 

Rambo brought his brawny hand down on 
the table with a resounding whack. 

“If that fellow Singleton tries any funny 
business on this ship. I’ll make him walk the 
plank; I will, as sure as gun’s iron.” 

Dutton pushed the bottle over. 

“Have a drink on me. Captain.” 

The big fellow laughed at the pleasantry. 
He poured out four fingers of the stuff and 
drained it at a single gulp. 

“The question,” he said, “is how to disguise 
this ship so she won’t be known. She’s too 
darn pretty anyway ; puts on airs like all of her 
sex.” 

A noise on deck interrupted the conference. 
Dutton hurried up the steps with agility, tak- 
ing his place in the bow of the boat. Rambo 
followed more slowly and less steadily. As he 
reached the top step he bumped into Mark 
Logan. He let out an oath. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Nothing.” 

“That’s no way to speak to your superior.” 

“It’s the only way I know.” 

As the man spoke, he walked off until he 
was three or four yards from Rambo. 

“Come back here and apologize,” shrieked 
the Captain. 


Paul Astonishes a Former Fnemy 73 

“I’ll not,” said the man sullenly. “Besides, 
I’m sick and tired of your bulldozing.” 

Rambo reached over and picked up a mar- 
linespike that lay on top of the hatchway and 
hurled it at the sailor. It struck him on the 
side of the head and glanced off, leaving an 
ugly flesh wound. The blood gushed out, 
covering the side of the man’s face. The 
sight of the red stain made a demon of the 
drunken Captain. He picked up a broken 
oar and made a savage rush for the wounded 
man. At this critical moment. Job Singleton 
appeared on the scene. He came forward 
swiftly with a cat-like tread. Rambo raised 
the wooden club in the air ready to crash it on 
the skull of the defenseless man, when he sud- 
denly felt it wrenched from his grasp, and the 
next instant saw it spinning through the air 
and off into the water. 

He turned with a shriek of rage and found 
Job Singleton, quiet and self-contained, con- 
fronting him. For a few minutes he behaved 
like a maniac. His first impulse was to strike 
the mate, but there was something about that 
pale, determined face that deterred him. 

“What do you mean?” he shouted. 

“I meant to save you from becoming a mur- 
derer,” responded the other, and then as if it 
were an afterthought he added, “I think I 
succeeded.” 


74 


Paul Astonishes a Former Enemy 


This statement was so true that it could 
not be combated, so Rambo adopted another 
tack. 

“Who’s Captain on this boat?” 

“You are.” 

“And my orders are to be obeyed?” 

“Surely.” 

“Then why did you interfere?” 

“I didn’t — at least not with your orders. 
I only saved that man’s life.” 

The vindictiveness of the beady little eyes 
would have startled a less courageous man, 
but Singleton, while cautious and on his guard, 
was unafraid. The Captain broke forth ex- 
plosively : 

“I’m going to have discipline on this boat.” 

“I’ll help you in that,” was the mate’s calm 
reply. 

“That fellow talked back to me,” shouted 
Rambo, pointing to Mark Logan, who stood 
in the background, wiping the blood from his 
face. 

Singleton made no reply. He felt that 
further parley was useless. He had accom- 
plished his purpose. 

“I’m going to punish him!” 

The mate quietly walked away. It was as 
if he were telling the Captain to go as far as 
he hked — sjiort of murder. 

Rambo was relieved. In spite of his loud 


Paul Astomshes a Former Enemy 75 

voice and bullying ways he felt a wholesome 
restraint in the presence of Job Singleton. 
He turned to Logan. 

“Get into the forecastle.” 

The seaman obeyed. The Captain motioned 
to two burly sailors and the three followed the 
recalcitrant one. Paul Parker looked after 
the party with curious eyes, but he dared not 
follow. He stood near an open hatchway and 
listened, but no sounds came from below. He 
feared that Rambo in his sodden condition 
might attempt to flog the unfortunate Logan, 
and in that event there was no telling what 
might follow. Five, ten, fifteen minutes went 
by with nothing to indicate what was going on 
in the hold. At the end of that time the Cap- 
tain reappeared. He was flushed and there 
was a smirk of satisfaction on his forbidding 
face. Paul longed to ask what had been done 
to the sailor, but was discreetly silent. Be- 
sides, he might be the next victim, and there 
was no need of courting trouble. Dutton 
came along just then, and he and the Captain 
went into the cabin together, laughing boister- 
ously. 

For the next three hours Paul was kept so 
busily employed that he had no time to think 
of Mark Logan. Singleton, who was in com- 
mand, did not have the opportunity of speak- 
ing to the boy. Presently there came a lull. 


76 


Paul Astonishes a Former Enemy 


No one was in sight, and Paul crept silently 
down the ladder and made his way to the fore- 
castle. Three of the men were engaged at 
cards. A fourth was playing a wheezy old 
accordion, while another lay on his back fast 
asleep. Logan was not in sight. The boy 
picked his way carefully through the stuff 
strewn about the floor and pushing open a 
door, found himself in a bare compartment 
in the very bow of the boat. It was almost 
dark, the only thing that lighted up the sordid- 
looking place being a dirty-paned lantern. 
As soon as he got his bearings Paul peered 
about anxiously. He discerned a form lying 
prostrate on a heap of straw. 

“Hist!” he whispered. 

A groan came from somewhere. 

“Is that you, Logan?” called the boy. 

“Yes,” came in a weakened voice; “I’m in 
the corner.” 

Paul hastened in the direction of the voice. 
The sight that met his gaze was sickening. 
The light shed its ghastly rays on the man’s 
face. One side was covered with clotted 
blood. His eyes were dulled; his movements 
feeble and spiritless. 

Paul reached out his hand. 

“Get up,” he said. 

A wan smile crossed the man’s face. 

“I can’t.” 


Paul Astonishes a Former Enemy 77 

“Why not?” asked Paul, alarmed. 

“I’m in irons,” was the sententious reply. 

A glance verified the statement. A pair of 
rusty handcuffs were about his two wrists, 
while the feet were manacled and weighted 
down with a heavy iron ball. 

“This is an outrage!” exclaimed Paul, honest 
indignation tingling through his frame. 

“So it is,” murmured the man, a quizzical 
look in his eyes, “but what are you going to do 
about it?” 

Paul stooped down and examined the irons. 
They were very old and very rusty. 

“I thought the day for this sort of thing 
had passed,” he said. 

“Evidently it hasn’t,” commented the vic- 
tim dryly. 

“I never dreamt that Captain Hawkins 
would have them on his ship,” cried Paul bit- 
terly. 

“Captain Hawkins never put a man in irons 
in his life,” was the quick reply. “These old 
manacles are relics of by-gone days. Rambo 
dug ’em up from a lot of junk.” 

“Do they hurt?” 

Logan made a bitter face. 

“Hurt’s no name for it, I feel as if I had 
a ton of iron on me.” 

“Can I do anything for you?” asked Paul, 
anxiously. 


78 


Paul Astonishes a Former Enemy 


“Yes,” said the other eagerly; “I’m almost 
dying of thirst. Get me a drink.” 

Almost before he had finished speaking, 
Paul was gone. He hastened on deck. Job 
Singleton had just gone off duty. The boy 
went to his room. 

“Mr. Singleton,” he said, “have you a bottle 
of wine to spare?” 

“Why, yes,” was the hesitating reply, “but 
I don’t think it’s a good thing for a youngster 
like you to go into the wine-bibbing business.” 

“I’m not going to drink it,” he said, excit- 
edly. “You mustn’t ask me who it’s for, 
either. Just give it to me as a personal fa- 
vor.” 

The mate reached down into his locker and 
pulled out a pint bottle of claret. 

“Here you are,” he said, looking at the bot- 
tle reluctantly. “It’s something we don’t 
often use, except in case of sickness, but I 
can’t see how I’m going to deny your request.” 

“Oh, thank you!” was the boyish response. 
Paul started off, but had only gone a few 
steps when he turned and came back. 

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” he said by 
way of introduction, “but would you mind 
giving me a few of the ship’s biscuits?” 

“I’m not the cook,” was the abrupt reply. 

The suggestion was enough. Paul hastened 
to the cook’s galley. Mike Moran was there 


79 


Taul Astonishes a Former Enemy 

hard at work, and the boy repeated his request. 

‘‘It’s against the rules,” said the cook. 

“Is it?” asked Paul innocently. 

“Sure, but what’s the rules between 
friends?” and the good-hearted Irishman filled 
a bag with the hardtack and pushed it into the 
boy’s hands. 

Silently he crept down into the forecastle 
and thence into the hold of the vessel. In a 
few minutes he was beside the prisoner. 

“What have you got there?” cried Logan. 

“Something to make your mouth water.” 

And so it did. The man’s eyes glistened 
while Paul pried out the cork with the end of 
his penknife. The sailor seized the bottle 
and drank from it tremblingly. After that 
he ate the biscuits ravenously. He fell back 
with a sigh of contentment. 

“Boy,” he said, “you’re an angel in dis- 
guise.” 

Paul smiled. 

“I’m glad you think so, but I’m afraid I’m 
very human.” 

In the meantime, he had been examining the 
irons with great care. After his scrutiny was 
finished, he turned to Logan. 

“I beheve these things are locked with a 
key.” 

“So they are,” replied the sailor. “What 
about that?” 


80 


Paul Astonishes a Former Enemy 


“Nothing, only I think I saw a bunch of 
keys hanging on a peg as I came into this 
place.” 

“Please don’t raise my hopes,” moaned the 
prisoner. 

Paul did not reply. Instead he felt his way 
over to the other side of the hold. A big bunch 
of keys dangled from a hook on the wall. 
He pulled them down and hastened back to 
Mark Logan. The dim light made it very 
difficult to work, but he tried one key after 
another with infinite patience. The hand- 
cuffs were the first object of his care. Many 
minutes went by and he made but slow prog- 
ress. One key was too large; another too 
small, and so on. Finally he reached the last 
key. His heart palpitated; if this failed him, 
the poor fellow would have to keep his irons 
on indefinitely, hut it did not f ail him. It was 
the magic wand that unloosed the irons. They 
fell to the floor with a crash. He tried the 
same key on the manacles that held the numbed 
legs together. Once again it worked, and the 
shackles dropped off the torn and bleeding 
ankles. 

“Now you must lie quiet here,” whispered 
Paul. “Don’t move. Don’t let any one know 
you are freed. Keep those chains near you. 
If Rambo or Dutton come down, pretend you 
are still in irons, Do you understand?” 


81 


Taul Astonishes a Former Enemy 

‘‘I do.” 

‘‘I’ll bring you something to eat in the morn- 
ing; until then lie quiet. I’ll talk to Single- 
ton and maybe he can advise us the right thing 
to do.” 

“Yes.” 

Paul started away. He had gone only a 
few steps when he felt some one plucking at 
his coat. It was Logan. The man’s hands 
trembled. In the dim light, Paul could see 
the tears in his eyes. He tried to master his 
emotion sufficiently to speak. When he did, 
it was a single word. 

“Boy!” 

“Yes,” said Paul. 

“I came on the boat with Rambo,” said the 
sailor brokenly, “prepared to do his dirty 
work. You knew I was no friend of yours, 
yet you’ve returned good for evil. Boy, if I 
can ever serve you, count on me to the death.” 

And Paul, looking at the man, his eyes filled 
with unshed tears, knew that he meant what 
he said. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE “water witch” SUDDENLY CHANGES HER 
NAME FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE 

J OB Singleton was in command of the ship 
that night, and try as he would, Paul could 
not steal an opportunity of telling him what 
he had done in the case of Mark Lo- 
gan. After pondering over it for awhile, he 
decided to let events take their course, and with 
this philosophic conclusion, he went to his 
berth and slept like a top. As he emerged on 
deck the next morning, he found the air still 
more balmy and noticed that the Water Witch 
was skirting the northern side of the island of 
Cuba. He thought it curious that a vessel 
bound for Jamaica should get so far out of 
the channel. At first he thought he might be 
mistaken, but presently the nose of the boat 
was headed directly for one of the little bays 
nestling on the Cuban coast. 

He went to the mate’s room to find out if 
he could give any explanation, but learned 
that he was still on watch. Eli Dutton had 
complained of illness, and Singleton, with 
83 


The Water Witch Changes Her Name 8S 

characteristic generosity, had relieved him for 
the remainder of the night. He hurried on 
deck again and espied the first mate standing 
in the bow of the boat. He started to go to- 
ward him when Bill Rambo intercepted him. 

“Boy, go down into my cabin and clean up 
the table.” 

Paul stood still, amazed. It was the first 
time Rambo had ordered him to do any menial 
work. The hesitation angered the Captain. 

“You lazy whelp, go and do as I say. What 
do you mean, standing there gazing at me?” 

The boy did as he was bid. He knew it 
would be folly to mutiny. Also he realized 
that Rambo was getting ready to throw off all 
disguise — ^that it was only a question of time 
when he would openly proclaim his piratical 
intentions. 

As Paul walked away, Singleton ap- 
proached. 

“I say. Captain,” he remarked. “We seem 
to be drifting towards Cuba.” 

“I know it,” he answered; “it’s by my or- 
ders. I wanted to get a closer look at that 
coast. We won’t go in very far and after that 
will return to the channel.” 

The reply satisfied the mate. He raised 
his hand in salutation. 

“All right; thought you might not have no- 
ticed it.” 


84j The Water Witch Changes Her 'Name 

After a moment’s silence, Rambo said: 

“See here, Singleton, you go down in your 
berth and get some sleep.” 

“Oh, I’ll stick the watch out. Captain,” vol- 
unteered the mate. 

“How long have you been on watch?” 

“Oh, I don’t know — eleven or twelve hours.” 

“That’s too much,” insisted the Captain. 
“You go down, and I’ll put Dutton in your 
place. He’s all right now.” 

Nothing loath, Singleton obeyed. Ex- 
hausted nature asserted itself. He went to 
sleep almost as quickly as his head touched the 
pillow. 

Paul Parker, at the other end of the ship, 
was wondering when he could get into com- 
munication with the mate. After he had 
cleaned up the table in the Captain’s cabin, he 
started to go upstairs, but at the top he was 
met by the scowling face of Bill Rambo. 

“Go down there,” the man shouted. “You 
get that old log-book and copy it in one of 
those blank books that ain’t been used, and do 
it right, too. If you make a single mistake. 
I’ll flog you.” 

“The log for last year?” asked Paul. 

“That’s what I said.” 

^‘But what’s the use. It seems like a 
waste—” 


The Water Witch Changes Her Name 85 

He got no further. 

“You lubberly starfish! If you give me 
any more back talk, 111 lash you to the mast. 
Do as I say, and don’t come up again until I 
send for you.” 

Paul retreated in good order. He began to 
do the copying in a mechanical fashion. He 
knew well enough that it was simply a device 
to get rid of him, but he realized that failure 
to take orders might result seriously. In the 
meantime his eyes and ears were on the alert. 
Presently the engine ceased pumping. The 
ship halted. There was a grinding sound, 
lasting for some minutes, followed by a splash, 
and he knew the anchor had been cast. The 
boy looked through the window of the cabin. 
They were in close to shore now — as close as 
it was possible to go without grounding the 
vessel. The water was quite low, so low that 
Paul wondered whether they had gotten stuck 
in the mud. 

On deck everything was activity. Foot- 
steps could be heard running in various direc- 
tions. Soon he knew by the peculiarity of 
the sound that the small boats had been taken 
f rom the davits, and were being lowered in the 
water. Rambo, who was directing the men, 
shouted : 

“Now when you fellows get down there, I 


86 The Water WHch Changes Her Name 

want you to work like the very fury. Do it 
and I’ll double your allowance of grog for the 
next two days.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” came in chorus from the 
sailors. 

There was silence for a few moments, and 
then came a scraping sound on the side of the 
boat. It did not proceed from any particular 
spot, but asserted itself in every section of the 
ship. It seemed as if a dozen men had simul- 
taneously started to sandpaper the Water 
Witch, Paul was feverishly anxious to go 
out on deck and see what they were about, but 
a wholesome fear of that bloated face and 
those beady eyes restrained him. “Scrape,” 
“Scrape,” “Scrape,” continued the sound with 
monotonous iteration. Paul kept up the pre- 
tense of copying the log-book, but it was a sad- 
looking piece of work. The pages of the new 
book were blurred with blots, while the boy’s 
hands looked as if he had taken an ink bath, 
all of which reveals the regrettable fact that 
Paul Parker was not a tidy boy. 

After two hours of the sing-song sound, the 
scraping ceased, and the hum of conversation 
began. The voice of Eli Dutton could be 
heard above the others. 

“Put two pots in each boat and see how fast 
you can finish the job.” 

The men resumed their work with a will. 


The Water Witch Changes Her Name 87 

Occasionally the mate could be heard talking 
to them. 

“Does it dry fast?” he asked. 

“As fast as it goes on,” answered a voice. 

“Good,” was the satisfied response. “As 
soon as you finish the first coat, go ahead with 
the second. Leave the smokestack and the 
figurehead until the last.” 

While Paul was pondering over these 
strange words and these strange doings, the 
door opened and Rambo.came down into the 
cabin, followed by Dutton. The Captain 
paused at the top step to call out to some one 
on deck. 

“As soon as you’re ready, let me know.” 

Once in the cabin, he called to Paul. 

“Let’s see the log-book.” 

Paul handed him the book, not without an 
inward qualm. The man looked at it with a 
sneer. He passed it to Dutton. Rambo 
turned to the mate. 

“What do you think of it?” 

Dutton, being unable to frame a ready an- 
swer, was silent. The Captain answered him- 
self. 

“I think it’s fierce; full of blots and blun- 
ders. It shows that the kid’s no good. Just 
one of those chaps that thinks he knows it aU, 
but never pulls off a clean job.” 

Paul flushed at these sarcastic references to 


88 The Water Witch Changes Her Name 

himself. He had a consuming desire to punch 
Rambo’s head, but he knew that his time had 
not yet come. The Captain leered at him 
with his unlovely manner. 

“You pinched my fingers once in the jamb 
of your uncle’s door, didn’t you? Well, you’ll 
get every one of those pinches back with inter- 
est before I get through with you.” 

Paul made no answer. 

“Let’s have a drink. Captain,” suggested 
Dutton. 

“Boy,” shouted Rambo, with an oath, “pass 
the bottle and the glasses.” 

Paul did so and stood in the attitude of a 
waiter, while the two coarse seamen started 
in on their debauch. After the fifth glass 
Rambo became sodden. He still showed a 
dull dickering anger toward Paul, hut the boy 
felt that he was in no immediate danger. 
After an hour, a head appeared in the open- 
ing above. 

“Captain?” 

“Well?” 

“It’s ready now.” 

Rambo turned to Paul. 

“Now, my beauty, I’m going to give you a 
surprise party. You were good to me and 
the least I can do is to return the compliment.” 

“What is it?” asked Paul, curiosity getting 
the better of his caution. 


The Water Witch Changes Her Name 89 

“It’s a funeral and a christening,” leered 
the Captain, “and I ’spose you’ll be sorry and 
glad. Them’s the proper emotions, ain’t 
they?” 

Paul looked puzzled. 

“Take him up,” ordered the Captain. 

A sailor approached and tied a handkerchief 
around the boy’s eyes. Thus blindfolded he 
was led on to the deck. Strangely enough, he 
felt no fear. The boards quivered, and he 
realized that the machinery was at work and 
that the ship was putting out to sea again. 
He felt, unconsciously, that he was heading 
toward the bow of the boat. When he got in 
the extreme end, he was turned around so that 
he faced the wheel-house. 

“Now off with it,” shouted Rambo. 

The command was obeyed. 

Paul rubbed his eyes for a few moments 
after the handkerchief had been removed. 
He glanced about curiously. A sense of un- 
familiarity took possession of him. A big 
glaring pillar of red confronted him. It was 
the smokestack. He looked again. The pi- 
lot house and the sides of the boat looked som- 
ber. In a flash, the whole thing dawned on 
him. The Water Witch had been repainted. 
It had been pure white from stern to stern. 
Now, excepting the red smokestack, every- 
thing was an ugly black. Involuntarily, he 


90 The Water Witch Changes Her Name 

leaned over the side. The name had been 
scraped off, and there stenciled in its place in 
big white letters on the new black background 
were the words ''Sea Gull/^ 

Bill Rambo stood watching the boy, his big 
face beaming with drunken joy. To his pe- 
culiar nature it was a moment of great tri- 
umph. Paul could not restrain an exclama- 
tion. 

“Well, this don’t look much like the Water 
Witchr 

“Certainly not,” bawled the Captain. “The 
Water Witch is dead and buried, and the cof- 
fin’s rotted and gone to the bottom of the sea. 
Good riddance, I say!” 

“Every cloud has its silver lining though. 
Captain,” suggested Eli Dutton, with a smirk. 

“You bet,” assented Rambo, “and in place 
of the Water Witch, we’ve got the beautiful 
Sea Gull, just born. She’s a promising 
youngster, ain’t she? Old Neptune’s her fa- 
ther and mother and wet nurse and second 
cousin, all combined. I’m her sponsor and 
christener. Don’t forget that, will you? 
That Bill Rambo lived to see the day that he 
could have a vessel of his own.” 

“Bravo, Captain!” cried Dutton, clapping 
his hands. 

Singleton had appeared in the stairway. 
The drunken Captain turned to him. 


The Water Witch Changes Her Name 91 

“See here, you Mr. Nasty-nice mate. See 
that the men get all the grog they want. Do 
you hear that, boys? If you don’t get it, it’s 
Mr. Goody-goody’s fault.” 

He turned to the second mate. 

“Come on, Dutton. I’ve got a case of 
champagne below. We’ve got to celebrate 
this auspicious occasion. I’m a parent — the 
parent of the Sea Gull, and you know how a 
parent’s heart must feel at a time like this.” 

There was an orgy in the forecastle that 
night, and toward morning, as Paul and Sin- 
gleton paced the deck together, they could 
hear the popping of corks in the Captain’s 
cabin. 


CHAPTER IX 

THE CREW OF THE “sEA GULL” FIND THEM- 
SELVES DIVIDED INTO RIVAL CAMPS 

T he morning after the transformation by 
which the Water Witch became the Sea 
Gull, the vessel changed her course, and 
headed straight for the Windward Channel. 
It was a fair day, but there was a suspicious 
fleckiness about the sky — the sort of thing that 
portends a tropical storm. Job Singleton 
hummed a ditty as he paced the deck and gazed 
ahead on the bright waters, but the thoughts 
in his mind were by no means merry. The 
mere presence of Bill Rambo, ignorant, cour- 
ageous and drink-crazed, was like having a 
stick of dynamite in the pantry. He felt, in 
a subconscious way, that matters were reach- 
ing a crisis, and that when the crucial moment 
arrived he would have to be prepared to act 
quickly and decisively. 

His intuition was correct. Bill Rambo 
slept late as the result of his debauch the night 
before. He was in a very bad humor. His 
red face was redder than usual, and his little 


The Rival Camp& 


93 


beady eyes were dull and sullen. He came 
up the stairway slowly, as if his shaky legs 
were not equal to the task of navigating his 
heavy body. Singleton, alive to the etiquette 
of the sea, saluted his supposed superior, but 
Rambo gave only a porcine grunt, and stag- 
gered toward the forecastle. He disappeared 
down the companionway and the mate gave 
a sigh of satisfaction at the thought of being 
temporarily relieved of his unbearable pres- 
ence. But his relief was short-lived. In a 
few minutes Rambo reappeared, shaking his 
fist in a frenzied manner. The stubby nose, 
shining like a carbuncle, stuck out with an 
aggressiveness that dared any one to utter a 
defiance. Singleton was standing amidships. 
Rambo rushed toward him with the wildness 
of a mad hoar. Something about the man — 
his short legs, his top-heavy body and his thick 
neck — seemed to hit the whimsical side of the 
mate, and he burst into a hearty laugh. It was 
an unfortunate moment for mirth. Rambo, 
choking with rage, spluttered: — 

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Oh, nothing,” was the evasive reply; “I was 
just thinking.” 

“No matter,” thundered the red-faced one, 
“I come to speak of something more im- 
portant.” 

“What is it?” 


94 * 


The Rival Camps 


‘Tlaying the innocent,” sneered Rambo. 
“Well, it won’t go with me. You’ve got to 
give an account of yourself. Now I want you 
to tell me why in darnation you released Lo- 
gan?” 

“Logan?” 

“Yes, Logan. I put him in irons yesterday 
for talking back to me. You know all about 
it. You took the irons off him.” 

Singleton looked Rambo straight in the eye. 

“I didn’t do anjdhing of the kind.” 

The Captain edged closer to the mate. 

“Are you lying to me. Job Singleton?” 

There was a dangerous glitter in the mate’s 
eye. 

“If you give me the straight lie,” he re- 
torted, “I’ll answer you in a way you won’t 
like.” 

Rambo, knowing his man, changed his tac- 
tics. He spoke again, still in a loud and inso- 
lent way. 

“If you didn’t unlock his chains, who did?” 
“I did!” 

The words came crisply. Both men turned 
at the sound. There before them, his arms 
akimbo, his eyes fearless and his manner confi- 
dent, stood Paul Parker. 

The Captain uttered a fearful oath. 

“You brat,” he added, “I’ll teach you to get 
fresh on my boat.” 


95 


The Rival Camps 

As he spoke, he lunged forth with his right 
fist. If it had ever struck the boy, it would 
have knocked him senseless. But it was not 
to be. Singleton shot out one of his brawny 
arms, and when the melee was over Paul stood 
there uninjured, while the Captain lay sprawl- 
ing his length on the deck. For a moment, 
he was stunned. As soon as he recovered his 
breath he emitted a roar like a wounded bull. 
He jumped to his feet, and pulling a whistle 
from his pocket, blew it three times. 

In half a minute the deck was filled with 
men. Job Singleton, better than any man on 
board, realized the gravity of what had been 
done. Fie had committed an unpardonable 
offense. There could be no palliation; no 
compromise. Either Rambo or himself would 
have to be supreme on the newly christened 
Sea Gull, and if it were Rambo? He shud- 
dered at the thought of the consequences. 
With it all, he was outwardly calm. This un- 
lettered giant had poise and repose. He stood 
silent, with folded arms, awaiting the issue, but 
his eyes watched everything. One of the first 
heads to appear above the hatchway was that 
of Mark Logan — the cause of all the trouble. 
Rambo saw him first. An idea suggested it- 
self — an idea that made the beady eyes sparkle 
with exultation. 

‘‘Logan,” he said, with cheerful mendacity. 


96 


The Rival Camps 


“I’ve had you released, and I’m going to pro- 
mote you to the position of first mate of this 
vessel. Your first duty will be to put that 
man in irons.” 

Logan’s eyes bhnked with mystification. 
Coming out of the black hold, it took him some 
moments to get accustomed to the glare of the 
sun. He sparred for time. 

“What man?” 

Rambo pointed a stubby forefinger in the 
direction of the mate. Logan looked in that 
direction. Paul Parker stood by the side of 
Singleton fearlessly — with the fearlessness that 
comes so grandly with the thoughtlessness of 
youth. The former prisoner realized the sig- 
nificance of the tableau. He spoke sullenly, 
but with decision. 

“I won’t do it!” 

Rambo gasped with astonishment. 

“The man’s mutinied,” he cried. “He 
knocked me down.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Do as I say or take the consequences,” 
thundered the Captain. 

“I’m through with doing your dirty work,” 
retorted the man, with the first glimmer of 
manhness he had had in many a long day, “and 
if there’s going to be a fight, I’m with Single- 
ton and the boy.” 

And suiting the action to the word, he strode 


The Rival Camps 


97 


over to where the first mate stood, and laid a 
rough but caressing hand on Paul’s head. 
This action infuriated Rambo to such an ex- 
tent that he lost the power of speech. But it 
was only for a moment. As soon as he could 
regain liis voice, he shouted hoarsely: 

“Line up, men! We’ve got a mutiny to 
quell, and we’re going to do it quick!” 

The men did line up, but not in a way to 
please the usurping Captain. Six of the sail- 
ors got back of him. Three others ran over 
and arrayed themselves with Job and Logan 
and Paul. Mike Moran, the cook, rushed up 
on deck in his white cap and apron, carrying a 
big cleaver with which he had been cutting 
meat. He looked around with amazement, 
but as soon as the meaning of the thing dawned 
on his alert brain, he quickly joined the forces 
of the first mate. He stood there brandishing 
the cleaver as if it were an instrument of war. 
Eli Dutton, who was present at the beginning 
of the controversy, sidled over toward Rambo. 
Captain and mate took a quick glance at their 
respective following. Numerically, the Cap- 
tain had the better of it. The mate adopted a 
waiting policy. Suddenly, without the slight- 
est warning, Rambo pulled a pistol from his 
pocket and aimed it straight at Singleton. 

“I’ll get rid of you,” he shouted, “and then 
we’ll attend to the others.” 


98 


The Rival Camp^ 


He pulled at the trigger, but it caught and 
did not explode. A thrill of horror went 
through every one. There was a pause of ex- 
pectancy. Singleton was the most self-pos- 
sessed man in the crowd. He made one step 
forward, and his long leg shot up into the air. 
The tip of his boot caught the handle of the re- 
volver, it went flying upward and fell into the 
water with a splash. Rambo, howhng with 
pain, made a savage rush for the mate, but two 
of the seamen, more judicious than their Chief, 
held him back. His rage made him froth at 
the mouth, but somehow he felt his own impo- 
tence. It would never do to show the white 
feather in such a crisis. The little beady eyes 
danced in his head. The efl* ects of the whisky 
and the wine had worn off, leaving him in a 
sadly depressed state. His hand was bruised 
and swollen from the well-directed kick of Job 
Singleton’s boot, but this served as a stimulant 
to his passion. 

Job Singleton kept his presence of mind. 
He saw murder in the Captain’s eye, but he 
never quailed. The blue orbs assumed a steely 
expression, and the gentle mouth was Arm set. 
This tall, big-limbed man looked and acted as 
if his whole life had been a training to meet 
the exigencies of this particular moment. His 
quietness, suggestive of great reserve strength, 
inspired his followers with confldence, and 


The Rival Camps 


99 


they stood there in silence waiting for the 
word of command. 

Rambo cast a quick glance forward at the 
man who held the wheel. 

“Davidson,” he shouted, “come here.” 

Job Singleton spoke before the Captain had 
fairly finished, and his words came like shots 
from a rapid-firing gun. 

“Davidson,” he shouted, “your duty is at the 
wheel. Keep your eye on the compass — don’t 
desert your post.” 

The last voice sounded like the voice of a 
real commander — and Davidson obeyed it. 
Also he was glad to be relieved from the em- 
barrassment of fighting on either side. 

The men still stood facing one another. 
The preliminaries were so long that some of 
them felt a bit foolish, but Singleton was re- 
solved to act only on the defensive, and Rambo 
was half fearful of taking the aggressive. 
The mate, throwing a hasty look behind him, 
noticed the cook shaking his meat cleaver with 
the wildness of a Sioux Indian. 

“Moran,” he called, “throw that away, and 
be quick about it.” 

“If I do,” retorted the cook, “the other fel- 
lows will get it.” 

“Throw it overboard,” commanded Single- 
ton. 

The cook obeyed with a wry face. The 


100 


The Rival Camps 


action produced a general laugh and relieved 
the tension — temporarily. 

Rambo realized that if he was to do any- 
thing, the time had arrived. Delay meant ut- 
ter defeat. 

“Men,” he shrieked, “I want that long- 
legged lobster placed in irons.” 

Both sides made a simultaneous rush. They 
were weaponless, except for the fists with 
which all had been generously provided by na- 
ture. It was to be man to man. A brawny 
seaman on Singleton’s side struck one of Ram- 
bo’s men a terrific clip behind the ear. 
It stunned him; the fellow staggered heavily 
against the frail rail which guarded the gang- 
way. It slipped out of place, and he fell into 
the water. He never came to the surface 
again, and the Sea Gull steamed merrily 
ahead, oblivious of the fact that a human be- 
ing had gone down to feed the fishes at the 
bottom of the sea. 

In the first fierce onslaught, Eli Dutton 
and Job Singleton clinched. The first mate 
tripped over some substance on the deck and 
Dutton had the big fellow down on his knees. 
Bill Rambo, in the rear of the two men, struck 
out wildly with his fists. One sailor was 
knocked down and fell on his face. An- 
othex cleverly ducked the blow and stepped 
aside to engage in combat with a seaman 


101 


The Rival Camps 

who was more to his size. Rambo went ahead, 
his fists working like battering rams. Pres- 
ently he came face to face with Paul Parker. 
A smile of satisfaction crossed his homely 
countenance, and opening his hand, he gave 
the boy a terrific slap across the side of the 
jaw. 

Paul moved back a pace. Every drop of 
blood in his body was tingling with anger. He 
side-stepped, and doubhng up his sinewy hand 
struck Rambo a body blow, but it was as if he 
had hit a punching-bag. His fist fiew back, 
and Rambo, a malignant look in his beady 
eyes, prepared to vent his long-felt revenge 
against the youngster. Paul had recovered 
his presence of mind and resolved to worst this 
ugly giant or die in the attempt. He shot 
out his right hand a second time and hit Rambo 
directly under the left eye. The etfect was 
almost instantaneous. The big man’s fiesh be- 
gan to swell and in a few minutes the eye was 
half closed. The boy, as light on his feet as a 
ballet dancer, hfted his left fist and gave his 
opponent a terrific blow under the chin. 
It was disconcerting. The Captain incau- 
tiously left his face unguarded, and Paul 
rained the blows on him so fast and 
so hard that Rambo yelled with pain. He 
retreated a step or two, and the youthful 
fighter gave him a red-hot blow on the 


10^ The Rival Cainp^ 

tip of the stubby nose. It brought the blood, 
and while the red fluid ran down his chin, 
the youngster kept up the cannonading with 
his two well-trained fists. The men in the im- 
mediate vicinity made way for these two fight- 
ers. A swift glance told Paul that the mate 
and his followers were rapidly getting the bet- 
ter of the Captain’s men. Singleton had Dut- 
ton on the deck and was pounding heavy blows 
on his defenseless body. 

In the temporary lull, Rambo struck out 
and caught Paul on the side of the face. It 
was notice to the boy that the battle was not 
yet won; also, it aroused his fighting blood for 
the second time. He jumped about on his 
feet with an elasticity that puzzled and annoyed 
the older man. The Captain began to puff, 
his wind was giving way. The boy reahzed 
his advantage and pitched in again, the blows 
following one another with a vigor that would 
have done credit to a trained athlete. Every 
time his fist shot out, he thought of the way in 
which he had been wronged by this short- 
legged man with the big head, and the 
reflection gave added strength to his efforts. 
Unexpectedly, Paul shot out his right leg and 
the burly fellow tripped over it and fell face 
forward on the deck. He jumped up with 
astonishing agility, and with a roar that 
sounded more like a mad animal than a human 


lOS 


The Rival Cavt'p^ 

being, made a savage rush at the boy. Just 
as he reached him, Paul moved aside, and 
doubling up his fist gave him a fearful blow 
back of the left ear. Rambo reached for the 
rail for support, but it was not there. He 
had come opposite the spot where the unfortu- 
nate sailor had lost his hfe. The big man 
lurched uncertainly for a moment, and then 
dropped overboard with a loud splash. 

The fighting ceased. The men looked on 
with amazement. Job Singleton, who had 
witnessed the incident, ran to the pilot room, 
and grasping the speaking tube, called down 
an order to reverse the engines. It was exe- 
cuted with incredible swiftness. The steamer 
began to back slowly, and the waters were 
churned into a mass of white vapor. Every 
eye was on the spot where Rambo had gone 
down. The moments seemed like minutes, 
but when the watchers least expected it, a big 
head was seen to emerge from above the trou- 
bled waters. 

“Throw him a rope,” shouted the mate. 

Two sailors responded. In a few seconds 
the rope was lowered and before the man 
started to sink for the second time, the bit of 
hemp struck his bald head. He grabbed it 
eagerly and held on like grim death. 

“Now pull, all together,” sang out Single- 
ton. 


104 


The Rival Camp^ 

They pulled ; if not with a will, at least with 
great strength. In less than a minute they 
had landed him on the deck, a dripping, discon- 
solate-looking figure. Singleton gazed on the 
pitiful sight with a grim smile. 

“Take him into the cabin,” he ordered, with 
grim humor. “And give him a drink of 
brandy. We don’t want the poor man to catch 
cold.” 

As they led the defeated bully away, the 
mate walked over and clasped the boy by the 
hand. 

“Paul,” he said, his mild eyes glowing with 
pride, “you’re the master of this boat, not by 
inheritance, but by right.” 

Soon after this Job Singleton disappeared 
from view for a little while. He put the boy 
in charge, saying: 

“I’ll be back to relieve you in ten or fifteen 
minutes.” 

Happening to glance through the skylight, 
Paul saw the big sailor busily engaged in say- 
ing the Rosary. Beneath his rough exterior 
he had the simple faith of a child — the faith 
that furnishes strength and confidence — the 
faith which carries the believer through the su- 
preme crises of life. 


CHAPTER X 


THE ‘‘sea gull,” after A BRAYE ATTEMPT TO 

HOLD HER OWN, GOES DOWN TO OBLIVION 

^^HE sky, which had been unclouded, now 
began to take on a flaky appearance. Job 
Singleton studied it carefully for some mo- 
ments, and then, turning to Paul Parker, 
said: 

“We’re in for a terrific storm; the signs are 
in the sky, and they never failed me yet.” 

Man and boy were outwardly calm after 
their exciting fight on the deck of the Sea Gull, 
but both were alive to the possibilities of the 
situation. Bill Rambo they set down as a man 
of coarse courage, but treacherous to the back- 
bone. He had been treated rather roughly, 
and was not likely to be over-nice in the 
methods he used to revenge himself. The 
sailors were pretty well cowed. The sight of 
a boy tossing a man overboard had upset their 
ideas of the fitness of things, and they huddled 
together in the forecastle discussing the affair 
with avidity. Except the man at the wheel, 
Singleton and Paul were the only persons on 
deck. 


105 


106 


Into Oblivion 


The atmosphere was extremely oppressive. 
The sea was as silent as a pond. Presently 
there began a light pattering which changed 
to a drumming roll as great rain-drops began 
to fall on the deck. The mate, expecting the 
Captain to return after changing his clothes, 
had prepared himself for the attack, but the 
minutes went by and still Rambo did not 
appear. After a fair interval of time had 
elapsed, Singleton went to the skylight near 
the stern of the boat, and lifting it gently, 
looked down into the cabin. There sat Rambo 
and Dutton, a bottle of Scotch whisky be- 
tween them, imbibing freely and swearing 
vengeance upon their enemies. 

A few minutes later. Job Singleton was 
taken with a sudden and severe rheumatic 
cramp, and Paul had to assist him to his bunk. 
The mate assured the boy that he was subject 
to such attacks, and immediately began to 
doctor himself with some home-made remedies 
which he carried in his medicine chest. Paul 
wanted to remain with him, but he protested 
that it was not necessary. 

As Paul emerged on the forward deck, the 
rain was coming down in torrents and the wind 
was whistling fiercely around the red smoke- 
stack of the Sea Gull, Bill Rambo had come 
aft and was growling at one of the men. He 
walked with a slight limp, and there was in his 


Into Oblivion 


107 


manner and gait a sort of unuttered contempt 
for his associates. His eager eyes contrasted 
strangely with the flushed face and the de- 
bilitated manner. 

The sailor he was addressing made some 
grumbling reply. The Captain raised his 
stubby hands and struck the insubordinate one 
a resounding blow across the face. The man 
walked away sullenly without a word. When 
his rage had abated somewhat, Rambo sum- 
moned the men amidships. All responded ex- 
cept the engineer and the fireman, who could 
not leave their posts below. Paul Parker, 
and Mark Logan, who stood on the extreme 
left, waited anxiously for the message of the 
man. It came without any preface. 

“Men, this mutiny is at an end. Singleton 
is down and out, and I’m in command of this 
ship. I want every one of you to obey me 
without question. Those that do will be richly 
rewarded. Those that don’t will be sorry till 
the day they die.” 

After the men had dispersed, Rambo made 
frequent trips to the cabin, and after each 
journey, his face was a trifle more flushed and 
his utterances a little more husky. Also he 
was becoming bolder and more defiant. One 
of the sailors inquired about Job Singleton’s 
condition. 

Rambo answered with a savage sneer; 


108 


Into Oblivion 


“Oh, he be hanged; he’ll be at the bottom 
of the sea before this trip’s over.” 

“You may be the bait for the fishes your- 
self!” cried Mark Logan, who happened to be 
passing and overheard the remark. 

“What! preaching to me,” sneered the Cap- 
tain. “I’ve got a notion to put you in irons 
again for talking disrespectful to your su- 
perior, but not yet awhile. If you don’t go 
along with me, though, you’ll get the worst of 
it.” 

At this point the man at the wheel had to be 
relieved. The Captain was not in the mood 
to do the work himself. He looked about in- 
quiringly. His eye lighted on Paul Parker, 
standing at the end of the companionway. 

“Hey there, Parker,” he called, as if he had 
forgotten all about their fight, “you can man- 
age the wheel, can’t you?” 

“I don’t know,” said Paul. 

“Well, you’re the son of a pilot. I’m sure 
you can. Take it, anyhow, and steer your 
course for the Windward Channel.” 

The youth’s worst fears were realized at this 
order. The man was unfit to command the 
vessel ! 

“Job Singleton said to steer toward San 
Domingo,” he remarked suggestively. 

“I said the Channel,” shouted Rambo, the 
veins in his short neck swelling ominously. 


Into Oblivion 


109 


Paul took the wheel without another word, 
but there was a peculiar glitter in his big brown 
eyes. The hurricane had assumed serious 
proportions and the boat rocked like a cradle. 
The roar of the ocean drowned out all other 
sounds, and one particularly large wave dashed 
over the bow of the Sea Gull and broke on the 
deck, bathing Paul’s face in a lather of salt 
spray. He paid no attention to this, but sum- 
moning all of his strength, twisted the wheel 
around until the nose of the Sea Gull was 
pointed in the direction of the dimly outlined 
shores of San Domingo. 

Presently the sky became overcast ; it gradu- 
ally blackened until the heavens were draped 
with a sable pall; then came a noise like the 
muffled sound of countless drums all played 
in unison and slowly swelling in volume. 
Scarcely had this strange rumbling ceased 
when a flash of lightning darted out of the 
inky sky, maldng a phosphorescent streak 
across the black background. In a few min- 
utes the thunder and lightning stopped; but 
the downpour of rain continued and the 
velocity of the wind increased. 

At this moment Rambo noticed, for the first 
time, that the steamer was headed for the 
island. He was amidship, and the shrieking 
of the wind put ordinary conversation out of 
the question. The boat was heaving violently 


110 


Into Oblivion 


and the Captain sidled over near the pilot 
house with difficulty. Seizing a megaphone, 
he pointed it in the direction of the young 
wheelsman and shouted in hoarse tones: 

“Hey there! Look at your chart; you’re 
off your course.” 

But Paul gritted his teeth and remained 
silent. He looked straight ahead as impassive 
as a statue except that there was a strangely 
humorous droop about the corners of the 
strong mouth. 

Rambo was in a frenzy. Plis pilot was 
either stupid or defiant. He shouted again : 

“You’re on the wrong track; you’re headed 
for the shore. Turn the wheel.” 

Still provoldng silence. The Captain could 
endure it no longer. He crept over behind 
the hawser and picked up an iron bar four or 
five feet long and then stealthily made his way 
toward the defiant young pilot. Even amid 
the storm Paul heard the soft footsteps ap- 
proaching, and turning partly around, caught 
the murderous look in the man’s eye. But he 
never let go of the wheel. Mark Logan was 
a witness of the scene. He was filled with 
horror and hurried forward to defend the 
intended victim. But help came suddenly 
from another and an entirely unexpected 
direction. The Sea Gull had been plunging 
up and down in the vortex of the sea in a way 


Into Oblivion 


111 


to bring terror to the boldest heart. As 
Rambo advanced toward Paul, his face swol- 
len with sodden rage, the bow of the steamer 
struck a colossal sheet of water which spouted 
up high in the air — a magnificent, scintillat- 
ing column of salt spray. The bow of the 
Sea Gull reared itself like a frightened animal, 
and the stern of the boat sank down deep in 
the great cavity left by the retreating waters. 
The unexpected lurch threw the furious man 
back, his heel struck a stray belaying pin on the 
deck and he fell head over heels down the com- 
panionway of the forecastle. 

Paul Parker, clutching the wheel with des- 
peration, watched the performance out of the 
corner of his eyes. As the head of the mur- 
derous Captain disappeared, he heaved a sigh 
of relief and gave his whole mind to the task 
of saving the steamer. From that moment 
the command of the distressed boat fell upon 
the lusty, strong-limbed young man in the 
pilot house. The men were in a panic; all 
thought of the stolen ship and Rambo’s mad 
scheme was dismissed, and their one wish was 
to reach harbor in safety. 

A terrific gust of wind tore away the little 
wood and glass screen in front of the wheel and 
left Paul Parker exposed to the fury of the 
elements. But the boy, bred to danger, never 
flinched. He lifted his head with a touch of 


113 


Into Oblivion 


confidence, and the light falling on his ear- 
nest face gave him a look of simple nobility. 
One of the men, coming close to Paul, shouted 
that the boat had sprung a leak. The whimsi- 
cal droop around the corners of Parker’s 
mouth disappeared and was replaced by a 
hard, set expression. The situation was se- 
rious; he realized it fully. The sea had lashed 
itself into a terrible passion, and it required a 
giant’s strength to hold the wheel. Paul 
called to Mark Logan to relieve him for a 
moment while he shouted down the speaking 
tube to ask if the water had touched the 
machinery. Fortunately it had not, and the 
Sea Gull puffed and panted and struggled for 
breath like an obstinate man who has sum- 
moned all his strength in a last desperate fight 
against death. 

In spite of the awful strain the steamer 
gained two knots and lost one. Suddenly it 
ceased to move. The cause became apparent 
very quickly. The machinery was still pound- 
ing below. A mighty wave had taken away 
part of the starboard rail clean down to the 
deck. At the same moment the great anchor 
just behind the rail shpped out of place and 
went ratthng down into the water amid the 
clinking of the chains as the windlass went 
whizzing around with countless mad revolu- 
tions. This handicap with the wind and the 


Into Oblivion 


US 


turbulent waters held the boat stationary. 
Mark Logan summoned all hands forward and 
the dangerous and difficult work of raising 
the anchor began. The men worked with a 
will. Finally the great hulk of iron was raised 
and fastened into place. While the sailors 
bent over their work, a face, white as chalk, 
with great bulging eyes, stared out of the cabin 
port hole. It was Job Singleton, weakened 
by pain, groaning over his powerless condi- 
tion. 

Just as the anchor was fastened, a mam- 
moth wave, greater than any of its predeces- 
sors, swept the forward part of the steamer. 
By a gigantic effort Paul clung to the wheel; 
but when the waters passed over and the Sea 
Gull righted herself, it was found that two of 
the sailors had been thrown into the remorse- 
less sea. Two pairs of hands were hfted ap- 
pealingly above the boiling waters and then 
disappeared forever. Fate, in one of its in- 
exorable moods, had selected two of the con- 
spirators for a watery grave. Another wave 
with the strength of a thousand furies clipped 
off the top part of the red smokestack. Every 
separate plank in the steamer groaned at this 
fresh onslaught — with a groan that was almost 
human in its intensity, and then the Sea Gull 
shivered and shook from stem to stern. 

In the moment of stupefying silence that 


114 ? 


Into Oblivion 


followed, the groans of the Captain could be 
heard from the bottom of the forecastle, where 
he had fallen, and where he had lain half 
stunned by his unexpected drop. During all 
of the excitement Paul clutched the wheel with 
an unshakable resolution. His hands were 
bruised and bleeding; his face was bathed in 
perspiration and his garments, torn and 
bedraggled, hung limply about his exhausted 
form. The men clustered about him waiting 
orders. He was about to utter some en- 
couraging cry when the engineer, gaining his 
side, gasped; 

“WeVe sprung a fresh leak amidships and 
the engine room is filling with water!” 

Despair settled on the men’s faces; but 
Paul, looking ahead, saw something that made 
his eyes dance with joy. 

“Bear up, boys; we’re almost in sight of 
land and a boat is coming this way !” 

Sure enough, a sturdy craft, built to bear 
the buffeting of the sea, was bearing down in 
the direction of the Sea Gull, The waters had 
subsided somewhat, and the chief of the rescue 
crew encouraged his men, who sang lustily as 
they plied the oars. In the meantime the 
stricken steamer sank inch by inch until the 
green waters almost touched her deck. Job 
Singleton was assisted from his berth and all 


Into Oblivion 


115 


hands stood in the bow anxiously awaiting the 
arrival of the rescuers. 

They came in the nick of time, and Paul, the 
first mate, and the rest of the survivors were 
taken off the battered steamer. As they were 
pulling away, some one remarked that Bill 
Rambo was in the hold of the sinking ship. 
There was silence for a moment, but Paul 
Parker, realizing the situation, jumped up and 
insisted upon going back to the wrecked 
steamer. He quickly clambered over the side 
of the Sea Gull, 

“You’re mad!” expostulated the mate 
feebly. “You’re likely to go down with the 
ship 1” 

Paul made no reply. He only knew he 
could not go away and leave a living being in 
that chamber of death. The ship had ca- 
reened to one end and only the port side was 
above water. The young pilot was compelled 
to crawl along the side of the boat on his hands 
and knees. He reached a window, and creep- 
ing in, soon found his way to the forecastle. 
Rambo lay there groaning. The young 
giant, despite his exhaustion, grabbed the fel- 
low and dragged him out of the window and 
on to the deck. A dozen pairs of hands 
assisted them into the life-boat. As they 
seated themselves, the Captain of the life 


116 


Into Oblivion 


guard looked first at Paul and then at the 
prostrate form in the bottom of the boat. 

“You’ve saved his life.” 

“Yes,” interjected the mate, with a queer 
little laugh; “saved his worthless life for the 
penitentiary.” 

A second boat had arrived by this time and 
after some confusion, the human cargo was 
divided between the two crafts; the first one 
with the Captain, Eli Dutton, and three of 
Ramho’s men started for the shore at once. 
The waters were quite calm now and they 
progressed rapidly. The second one, with 
Paul, Singleton and the others, waited the end 
of the Sea Gull. The big boat, which had 
been gradually sinking, now gave a queer 
sound — like a gulp of sorrow. The eyes of 
every one in the small boat were fixed upon 
the wreck of the tramp steamer. The decks 
went beneath the waters. Some freak of the 
wind caused the whistle valve to give an ex- 
piring shriek; and then the broken end of the 
red smokestack disappeared. The horizon 
was clear — all that remained on the surface of 
the sea was a great cluster of sparkling bub- 
bles, which separated into little particles until 
they finally reformed into a vapory wreath 
over the watery grave of the Sea Gull. 


CHAPTER XI 


MARK LOGAN, ON REACHING DRY lAND, GETS A 
TASTE OF THE “lAW OF THE SEA” 

^^HE storm had abated, but the waters were 
^ still rough. As the Sea Gull went down 
Paul Parker turned to the man in the bow of 
the small boat and gave the order to pull for the 
shore. It was misty, but in the distance could 
be discerned the shores of Monte Cristo, the 
picturesque town on the coast of San Do- 
mingo. The men rowed with a will, but their 
progress was painfully slow. The boat was 
overweighted and the tide was beginning to 
come against them. Rambo, Dutton and the 
others, who had gone in the first boat, were not 
so heavily handicapped. Also their early start 
was an advantage. By pushing ahead before 
the turn in the tide they were now almost in 
sight of the shore. Paul lifted his glasses and 
saw Bill Rambo standing up in the boat direct- 
ing the movements of the oarsmen. Mark 
Logan crouched in the corner of the craft, 
evidently none too well pleased at the thought 
of being compelled to associate with Rambo. 

117 


118 


The Law of the Sea' 


Paul handed the glasses to Singleton and 
the mate focused them on the other boat. 

“They’re straining every nerve to reach the 
shore,” he said. “Rambo’s making himself 
very officious. I wonder why he’s so anxious 
to get there ahead of us.” 

“Probably he don’t like our company,” 
laughed Paul. 

Whatever the reason, Rambo and his party 
reached shore half an hour before Paul 
Parker and the other survivors. When the 
second boat beached, a sailor came running 
down to meet it. He touched his cap to Job 
Singleton respectfully and exclaimed: 

“I’m sorry you were not on hand a little 
sooner, sir!” 

“Why?” 

“Nothing, except that that Rambo is up to 
his little tricks again.” 

“Be plain,” cried the mate irritably; “what’s 
happened?” 

“Well, sir,” responded the man, “it’s got me 
so upset that I can’t make out what’s what. 
However, I’ll try to be as clear as possible. 
As soon as we reaches shore, he tells us all to 
follow him. We did so and he takes us to the 
office of the British Consul, up there at the top 
of the hill. The minute he gets inside, two 
of his men grabs Mark Logan and holds him 
until the Consul came in. Then Rambo turns 


^^The Law of the Sea'* 119 

to him with a great bowing and scraping and 
says : 

“Your honor, I beg leave to introduce my- 
self as Captain of the Sea Gull, as brave a 
ship as ever flew the British flag, sir, which has 
just gone down to a watery grave!” 

“And the villain,” continued the narrator, 
“has the nerve to wipe a tear from his eye. 
The Consul is interested, and asks to have the 
particulars. He gives ’em a cock and bull 
story, all the time watching the shore for fear 
you would get there before he finished his 
dirty business. After he tells his beautiful 
story, he snivels a bit and adds: 

“ ‘But your honor, that’s not all. To add to 
our troubles, we’ve had a mutiny aboard. 
This man, Mark Logan, tried to kill me and 
I want you to hold him under arrest.’ ” 

“You could have knocked me down with a 
feather,” said the sailor. “Logan is about to 
deny the charge, but this lobster of a Consul 
shuts him up and tells Rambo to go ahead with 
his story. He tells a pretty one, I assure you. 
Says Logan threw him down the stairway into 
the forecastle and a lot of stuff like that. 
Then the Consul asks if he has his ship’s 
papers, and he shows him a complete set made 
out in the name of the Sea Gull. It was as 
neat a job as ever you saw in all your born 
days. Finally he is asked if he has anyone 


120 


The Law of the Sea' 


to prove his charges, and Eli Dutton and two 
of the sailors steps up and commits as lovely 
a case of perjury as ever I listened to. My, 
it was something magnificent to behold. I 
tries to open my jaws, but they shuts me up 
in double quick order and I has to run away 
to escape violence.’’ 

Singleton and the boy looked at one an- 
other several times during this recital. At the 
conclusion, the mate said : 

“Paul, if we’re going to save the poor man, 
we’ve got to make tracks.” 

“Right you are, Mr. Singleton; we’ll go at 
once.” 

They started up the hill toward the street, 
which was built on the embankment fronting 
the ocean. As they jogged along with the 
sailor, they had an opportunity for a hasty 
survey of the city. The immediate neighbor- 
hood appeared to be sparsely settled, but there 
were numerous dwellings further in the town. 
Most of them were wood and all had a white 
shell-like roof which glistened every time it 
came in contact with the uncertain rays of the 
sun. The sight of a British flag floating on 
the top of a frame cottage warned them that 
they were in the vicinity of the Consulate. 
They entered a plainly furnished room. In 
the center was a large desk. A blonde youth, 
perched on a high stool, was engaged in writ- 


^^The Law of the Sea*^ 121 

ing. He continued his work and did not even 
lift his eyes. 

Job Singleton gave a loud cough and Paul 
stamped on the floor with his right boot. Still 
the representative of His Majesty continued 
to scrape his pen across the paper. The mate 
could stand it no longer. He approached the 
desk and raised his voice. 

‘T would hke to talk to you, sir, on im- 
portant business.” 

“Would you?” asked the youth, pausing in 
his work and pulling hard at the small end of 
a rather sickly looking mustache. 

“Yes, I would I” shouted the mate, angry 
now, “and mighty quick too.” 

“Well, why don’t you?” 

“You’re a flne Consul — ” 

“I beg your pardon,” interrupted the youth. 

“What for?” 

“I’m not the Consul.” 

“Well, who are—” 

“I’m the Consul’s clerk.” 

“Do you represent him officially?” 

“I do.” 

“Well, I’m here to see about a poor seaman, 
named Mark Logan. A rascal called Bill 
Rambo’s been swearing Logan’s life away. 
I’m here to prove that it’s all perjury and that 
Logan’s innocent. Now can’t you take our 
depositions and release the poor fellow?” 


122 ^^The Law of the Sea'* 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” answered the clerk 
with an indulgent smile. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s too late.” 

“In what way?” 

“I guess I’ll have to give you all the details,” 
yawned the weary one. “It was this way. 
The jail’s crowded here and the Consul made 
an arrangement by which all of the British 
prisoners should be taken to the jail at 
Jamaica. All the details and the prisoners 
were ready to start off to-day when your 
mutinous friend was brought in — ” 

“He was not mutinous !” cried Paul. 

“Well, that’s neither here nor there. On 
the surface he was guilty of mutiny. The 
evidence was against him, so the Consul packed 
him off with the other prisoners and he is now 
on his way to Jamaica.” 

“But I can appeal from the decision of the 
Consul?” ventured Job Singleton. 

“Certainly.” 

“Well, then I do. Kindly let me know 
when I can meet the Consul to-day.” 

“You won’t meet the Consul to-dav.” 

“Why not?” 

“He left town.” 

“I’ll see him in the morning.” 

The clerk shook his head; then, with another 
tremendous yawn, replied: 


The Law of the Sea' 


123 


“He’s got a fortnight’s leave of absence and 
he’s gone to Jamaica to visit some friends.” 

The mate and the boy reluctantly left the 
office. The moment Singleton reached the 
open air he remembered the other members of 
the crew. 

“We’re forgetting our manners,” he said 
to Paul. “I never even thanked the brave fel- 
lows that brought us ashore.” 

On the beach stood the uniformed officer 
who had commanded the first hfe-saving boat. 
Job saluted him and said: 

“Whom are we to thank?” 

“My name is Moore,” said the officer; 
“boatswain of the Perry, now in the harbor 
ready to sail for the United States.” 

The mate looked out in the stream and 
noticed for the first time a beautiful vessel all 
prepared to sail away. 

“I owe you an apology, boatswain,” said 
Singleton, “but I was so excited over one of 
our men that I clean forgot to tell you how 
grateful we all feel for pulling us off the 
wreck.” 

“Don’t mention it,” was the genial reply. 
“It’s all in the day’s work. We pulled in near 
the shore in time to avoid most of the storm. 
I’m glad we were of some service to you.” 

“Some service,” grinned the mate; “you 
3aved our blooming hves,” 


124 


^"The Law of the Sea^' 


“Well,” laughed the boatswain, “put it that 
way if you like. Now what I want to know 
is whether any of your men want to go back to 
the United States. If so, let ’em jump in 
these life-boats and we’ll put ’em aboard the 
Perry and take ’em to the land of the Star 
Spangled Banner.” 

“What do you say, men?” asked Singleton, 
turning to the assembled crew. 

“We say yes,” cried Mike Moran, the cook, 
answering for the others. 

Without more ado they climbed into the 
boats, leaving Job and Paul on the shore. 

“What about you two?” asked the boat- 
swain. 

“Oh,” smiled Job, “we’re going to stay. 
We have important business here.” 

“That’s all, is it, then?” asked the officer. 

“Yes,” answered the sailor. “All except a 
ruffian named Rambo and his pal named Dut- 
ton and a poor fellow named Logan that 
they’ve sworn into jail.” 

A minute later and the crew of the wrecked 
vessel were being rowed toward the Perry, 
Job and Paul waved their final farewells and 
walked slowly toward the town. 

“I don’t suppose,” said the mate reflectively, 
“that there would be any use in following that 
prison van that carried Logan off.” 

“Not the slightest/’ answered Paul, “It’s 


^^The Law of the Sea** 


125 


got at least an hour’s start of us. Besides, it’s 
hitched to a pair of swift horses, while we’re 
afoot. In any event, we couldn’t attempt to 
overcome the guard. We’ve got to resign our- 
selves to the fact that Mark Logan is going 
into a British prison. We must get to Ja- 
maica.” 

The mate filled his pipe, and putting the 
short stem in his mouth, sucked away in 
silence. He looked at Paul curiously. Pres- 
ently he spoke. 

“Are you discouraged, youngster?” 

“Not while you are with me,” cried Paul, 
jumping up and putting his hand on the big 
fellow’s shoulder. 

“I thought not,” said Singleton, with a 
pleased smile. “Fortune seems to have thrown 
us together, and that being the case, I think 
you’d better make a clean breast of your mis- 
sion.” 

“You suspect what it is?” suggested Paul. 

“Yes,” replied the mate, “and with what 
I’ve picked up here and there I can piece out 
a very likely story, but if I’m going into this 
thing, I don’t want hearsay; I want to know 
the facts.” 

“You’re perfectly right,” said the boy, “and 
Uncle provided for just such an emergency as 
this by giving me the right to tell the whole 
story.” 


126 


The Law of the Sea' 


Briefly and simply he gave the narrative of 
the golden chest as it had been told to him by 
the dying sea captain. Job Singleton was 
intensely interested and his eyes sparkled, and 
a sense of elation thrilled his whole body. As 
Paul concluded, he said: 

“Of course, I knew that the letter of author- 
ity presented by Bill Rambo belonged to you, 
and that you were the real master of the TV ater 
Witch, but he had the documents in the case 
and I was helpless.” 

“I know that very well,” said Paul, “and I 
wouldn’t want you to think for a minute that 
I questioned your action. It was impossible 
for you to do anything else. But now that 
you know the whole story from beginning to 
end, will you help me to recover that chest?” 

The mate looked at Paul steadily for some 
moments. Just when the long-continued stare 
was becoming embarrassing, he poked out his 
big hand and said: 

“There’s my answer, boy.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Singleton,” exclaimed 
Paul; “I was sure you’d stick by me.” 

“That fellow got away with your letter in 
slick style,” said the mate, ignoring the per- 
sonal reference. “The question now is 
whether you’ve got the key of your chest all 
safe and sound.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Paul; “it’s around my neck 


1S7 


^^The Law of the Sea'* 

now. IVe never taken it off since Uncle put 
it there.” 

“How do you know the key’s there?” 

“I can feel it,” said Paul, pressing a little 
substance beneath his shirt with the thumb and 
forefinger of his left hand. 

“Let’s have a look at it,” persisted the mate. 

Paul responded at once. He lifted the 
string over his head and taking hold of the 
chamois bag, opened the top portion. He put 
in his hand and drew out a long rusty nail. 

The boy gasped for breath. The man 
smiled ironically. 

“He’s beaten you again, but it’s all the bet- 
^ ter. You’re stripped bare, without a single 
advantage. You haven’t got a shoe-string to 
start with. We’ll win at that! We will, so 
sure as my name is Job Singleton.” 


CHAPTER XII 


AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY CAUSES PAUL AND 
THE MATE TO CHANGE THEIR PLANS 

Tt was almost dusk, and the prospect, in a 

new country, was far from encouraging. 
Singleton and Paul sat down by the roadside 
to talk over the situation. Suddenly the mate 
arose and put his hand in his pocket. 

“I almost forgot about this,” he exclaimed. 

“What is it?” asked Paul. 

“My purse. We’re not as bad off as you 
think. I’ve got forty or fifty dollars here.” 

The boy smiled as the man exhibited a wallet 
fat with silver and gold. 

“As for that,” he answered, “I’m not 
stripped bare. I’ve got several hundred dol- 
lars in my clothes. Aunt Susan would not 
let me go away penniless.” 

Singleton waved his hat in the air. 

“Hurrah! We’re two American million- 
aires traveling on the island for our health.” 

Paul smiled at this enthusiasm. 

“Hardly that,” he answered, “but they 
can’t pick us up for two tramps.” 

The mate paced up and down the road for 


An Unexpected Discovery 


129 


a few minutes. He moved with agility. He 
had recovered entirely from the sickness which 
attacked him on seaboard, and now looked fit 
for any enterprise. He spoke quietly, more 
to himself than to the boy. 

“I’d like to know something about the 
island.” 

“Here’s a native coming up the hill,” said 
Paul; “maybe he can enlighten you.” 

Singleton hailed the man. He crossed the 
road and joined them. 

“They’re mostly French here,” observed 
the mate. “I wonder if this chap can talk 
English.” 

“Certainly,” responded the colored man, 
speaking for himself in a clear, distinct voice. 

The two strangers shouted with joy. 

“My friend,” said Singleton, “we’re two 
shipwrecked sailors. Our destination is Ja- 
maica. We’d like to know when we are likely 
to get a boat for that place.” 

The man raised his eyebrows in astonish- 
ment, he spoke with a gentle voice. 

“Never — from here.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, except that this port has been 
practically abandoned. Occasionally you get 
a boat going around the island and sometimes 
one headed for the United States, but rarely 
one bound for Jamaica.” 


130 ^An Unexpected Discovery 

‘‘Well, how do you get to Jamaica?” 

“We go from the other side of the island.” 

“Oh, I see,” said Singleton. “Now if we 
go across the island, what seaport are we likely 
to strike on the other side?” 

“Port au Prince.” 

“But that’s Hayti.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, we don’t want to get into that coun- 
try. We might get mixed up in one of the 
revolutions.” 

“Why not?” smiled the native. 

“Simply lack of time,” laughed the mate. 

Presently the man reached in his pocket and 
pulled out a little map. 

“Maybe this will help you.” 

Singleton seized it eagerly. He looked it 
over carefully. He turned to the man. 

Will you sell this map, my friend?” 

“Oh,” was the careless reply, “it’s not worth 
anything; you may have it.” 

But the sailor insisted upon pressing a silver 
coin in the man’s hand. 

“The point we want to make,” he said 
finally, “is the city of San Domingo. Can 
we get a boat from there to Jamaica?” 

“Sure. There are two a week sailing at 
this time of the year.” 

“Good. Now, I suppose that there’s some 


An Unexpected Discovery 131 

kind of a railroad to take us to San Do- 
mingo.” 

“There was,” smiled the native, “but the last 
hurricane cleaned up everything on the is- 
land.” 

“How will we get there then?” 

“Hoof it,” interjected Paul, cheerfully. 

“You can do better than that.” 

“How?” 

“Buy a couple of donkeys ; you can sell ’em 
at the other end.” 

“Are they all right?” 

“Nothing better. They’re slow but sure.” 

“What do you say, Paul?” asked the sailor. 

“It’s the only way we can work it.” 

“It seems so.” 

“I’m for it.” 

“So am I,” assented Singleton. 

“The country is very wild,” suggested the 
colored man. 

“So much the better,” exclaimed Paul. 

“It’s very lonely in spots.” 

“I never was much for company,” com- 
mented the sailor. 

“If you want a guide,” said the man, “I’m 
at your service.” 

“Is that a hotel up there?” asked the mate, 
pointing to a frame building overlooking the 
bay. 


13^ An Unexpected Discovery 

‘‘Yes.” 

“Well, we’re going to spend the night there. 
You come and see us the first thing in the 
morning and we’ll talk over the guide propo- 
sition.” 

With that they parted. The native went 
his way, while Singleton and Paul walked to- 
ward the Monte Cristo hotel. They found 
mud, narrow streets, black faces, and other 
tropical surroundings that made them f eel that 
they were indeed in a new world. The cabins 
on the outskirts of the town bespoke poverty. 
The hotel suggested genteel affluence. And 
yet it was only two and a half stories high and 
built of wood. A covered porch extended 
from the second story front room, and here at 
night the guests adjourned to smoke fat, black, 
after-dinner cigars. 

The landlord, a white man, was lolling at 
the front door. He looked up drowsily, as if 
the presence of strangers bored him. Single- 
ton spoke in quick, crisp tones: 

“We’re strangers here. We want supper, 
lodging and breakfast, and we’d also like to 
buy a couple of donkeys.” 

At the mention of the last word, the land- 
lord pricked up his ears sympathetically. 

“I just think I can accommodate you,” he 
drawled. “I’ve got two of the friskiest beasts 
that ever rolled in the dust.” 


An Unexpected Discovery ISS 

They followed him to a barn. Two don- 
keys were in the stalls, munching away at a pile 
of hay with tropical slowness. The owner 
talked learnedly about their good traits, while 
the two sailors listened with the blissfulness 
which comes only with complete ignorance. 

“Where did they come from?” asked Paul, 
feeling it was time to ask some sort of ques- 
tion. 

“From my guests,” replied the landlord 
proudly. 

“From your guests?” 

“Yes; you see it was this way. About two 
months ago, two traders came here on these 
donkeys. They liked my place so well that 
they stayed longer than they intended. Pres- 
ently all of their money was gone. I gave 
them a gentle hint that it was time to leave. 
One of them wanted to know if I wouldn’t take 
the donkeys in exchange for board. I was 
agreeable, so they stayed until they had eaten 
up the two donkeys.” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Singleton, “that was a 
good joke.” 

“So I thought until they left,” said the land- 
lord. “I found that although my boarders 
were gone, the donkeys were still here.” 

“What of that?” 

“What of that? Why, the donkeys have 
been eating ever since. They’ve eaten an ad- 


1B4 


An Unexpected Discovery 


dition off my house, and if I don’t get rid of 
them, they’ll eat up the hotel.” 

“In that case,” said Singleton shrewdly, 
“you will probably be glad to get rid of them 
cheap.” 

“Not too cheap,” cried the landlord; “y^u 
see it’s a matter of pride with me.” 

Neither Singleton nor Paul could see where 
the pride came in, but they did not deem it de- 
sirable to press that phase of the subject. 
After much quibbling, the landlord offered to 
sell the donkeys for what was the equivalent 
of forty American dollars. The travelers ac- 
cepted the offer at once, and to make sure of 
the animals paid the money immediately. The 
landlord was delighted. Donkeys he could 
get at any time, but dollars rarely found their 
way into his capacious pockets. 

The two beasts were as much alike as two 
peas in a pod. They had long ears, small feet, 
thick coats of hair and the most appealing eyes 
that were ever put in donkeys’ heads. In color 
they were a dirty brown and the only trait by 
which they could be distinguished apart was 
the fact that one had a whitish streak across its 
shoulder, while the other was perfectly uniform 
in color. The manes of each of the animals, 
as stiff as the hair on a scrubbing brush, came 
to sharp points near the tops of the heads. 
After they had made a complete survey of 


An Unexpected Discovery 1B5 

their purchase, the landlord, in an outburst of 
enthusiasm, invited them to take dinner at his 
expense. 

The meal was spread in the public room of 
the inn. The plain deal table was innocent of 
cloth, but a detail of that sort made little dif- 
ference to a man and a boy who were accus- 
tomed to roughing it on the sea. They were a 
bit curious, however, concerning the character 
of their first meal on Dominican soil. The 
landlord made several hurried visits to the 
kitchen, and in the intervals sat at the ta- 
ble and chatted with them concerning their 
prospective journey to the other side of the 
island. In the course of the conversation it 
became known that they were from the 
United States. The landlord betrayed im- 
mediate interest. 

‘T’m glad to know it,” he said. ‘T like to 
meet Americans. They are so quick and they 
spend money. I had two of them here to- 
day.” 

Instantly Singleton was attentive. 

“What did they look like?” 

“One had a big body and short legs,” an- 
swered the landlord. “His face was very red 
and he swore like a pirate.” 

“Bill Rambo!” exclaimed Paul. 

“And the other,” continued the host, “had a 
hard-looking face and wore shabby clothes. 


1^6 An Unexpected Discovery 

He was very attentive to the first man and 
obeyed all that he said.” 

“Eli Dutton,” commented Singleton. 

“Did they say they were coming back or did 
they go on?” asked Paul. 

“They didn’t make it very clear,” responded 
the landlord. “The red-faced man seemed to be 
in a good humor. I think they’ll come back.” 

The aroma of boiling coffee from the next 
room suggested that dinner was served. Sin- 
gleton and Paul pulled their chairs up to the 
table and, not being in a critical mood, ate 
heartily of all that was set before them. Va- 
riety and quantity seemed to be the watch- 
words of that inn. Besides the coffee, and 
some native flapjacks which were cooked in 
ashes, the sailor and his companion had rice, 
sardines, pickled salmon, canned tomatoes, 
stale bread, peas, claret and vermicelli. After 
dinner they went upstairs and were given easy 
chairs on the balcony. The mate tried one 
of the heavy black cigars, while Paul, to be 
companionable, attempted to smoke a native 
cigarette, but his honest stomach forced him to 
cast it aside after a few puffs. 

It was a perfect night. The air was still, 
while the stars shone from the blue-vaulted 
heavens with a tropical brilliancy. How long 
they sat there in silence they knew not. It 
must have been hours. Singleton was dozing 


An Unexpected Discovery 13 *^ 

gently when Paul’s attention was attracted by 
the sounds of revelry in the room behind the 
porch. He tiptoed over to the doorway, and 
parting the curtains looked in. Two men 
were seated at a table drinking Jamaica rum. 
Their backs were turned to him, but presently 
one of the men turned and almost caused the 
boy to shout with surprise. 

It was Bill Rambo! 

Another shifting of positions revealed his 
companion as Eli Dutton. Paul quickly 
aroused Job Singleton and by a series of pan- 
tomime gestures made him aware of the prox- 
imity of their two enemies. 

“What shall we do?” whispered Paul. 

“Lay low and say nothing for the present,” 
answered the mate. 

They remained on the porch for an hour. 
During that time Rambo and Dutton con- 
tinued to sample the native rum. Rambo, be- 
coming confidential, began to tell his troubles 
to Dutton. His tones were thick, but it was 
all one to his companion, who was in a semi- 
stupefied condition. The erstwhile Captain 
of the Sea Gull talked on and on and pres- 
ently, putting his hand in his pocket, pulled 
out a bit of string from which was suspended 
a key. 

Paul, with his eye between the curtains, 
jumped to his feet excitedly. 


1B8 


An Unexpected Discovery 


It was the key of the treasure chest! 

Rambo held it up in mid-air and continued 
to talk incoherently to his companion. After 
awhile he stuck it in his coat pocket clumsily, 
a portion of the string hanging out. He gave 
a bleary glance at Dutton, and with a silly 
smile, intended as the personification of wis- 
dom, muttered: 

“The man’s asleep.” 

With that sage observation, he, himself, 
went to sleep and was lost to consciousness. 

Singleton and Paul waited until they were 
assured that both men were insensible, and 
then crept silently into the room. Paul tip- 
toed over to Rambo’s side and, taking hold of 
the suspended string, gently pulled the key 
out of his pocket. After that they went down 
the creaking stairs in their stocking feet. No 
one was about. The door of the inn was closed 
but not locked. Such a precaution was re- 
garded as superfluous in that country. The 
two adventurers made their way stealthily to 
the stables. The two donkeys were there, still 
munching away at the hay. As the sailors ap- 
proached, they set up a braying loud enough 
to wake the dead. Fortunately, the sound 
was too familiar to disturb any one in the 
inn. 

Paul and Job each led an animal out into the 
roadside. It took but a few minutes to adjust 


An Unexpected Discovery 


139 


the curious saddles of straw and palm leaf. 
As they concluded, a clock in the inn struck 
the hour of midnight. The man and the boy 
each mounted his beast and departed, and in a 
few minutes they were swallowed up in the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE ADVENTURERS HAVE A CURIOUS NIGHT IN 
THE WOODS OF SAN DOMINGO 

S HORTLY after Job Singleton and Paul 
Parker started on their journey, the black 
clouds passed away and the stars shone down 
brightly upon them. The roads were bad and 
the donkeys stumbled a great deal, but after 
jogging along for about an hour they reached 
an immense open plain which was crossed and 
recrossed with good hard roads. Near the 
end of one of these roads they came to a cofF ee 
plantation which, to all intents and purposes, 
was open to the public. J oh and Paul assumed 
that it was, at any rate, for they continued on 
their way without a pause. The road led them 
through long avenues of graceful palms which, 
in the moonlight, resembled the marble col- 
umns of some magnificent palace. After 
leaving the coffee estate, the road narrowed 
so that at some points it was impossible for 
the two to go abreast. Each of the riders 
cried simultaneously: 

“You go first.” 


140 


A Night in the Woods 


141 


Both spurred their animals on, but the don- 
keys stood stock still and could not be induced 
to move one inch. Paul burst out laughing. 

“Mr. Singleton, I’ve been wondering what 
to call my donkey; I’ve got it now.” 

“What is it?” 

“Alphonse.” 

“And what will mine be?” 

“Why, Gaston, of course.” 

The sailor, who had never heard of the two 
polite Frenchmen of the comic supplements, 
each of whom perpetually insisted upon the 
other going first, scratched his head in a puz- 
zled fashion, and said he supposed these names 
would satisfy the donkeys as well as any other. 

A few lumps of sugar skillfully adminis- 
tered induced Alphonse to go ahead, and Gas- 
ton immediately followed. The road for the 
next few miles was through enormous clumps 
of cactus, the great prickly plant which is so 
abundant in the tropics. Cotton trees and 
flowering aloes bordered the hedges. A wild 
hog or a goat occasionally flitted across the 
road, but except for these interruptions, the 
night was very still. Indeed there was some- 
thing oppressive about this solemn quiet. At 
one stage of the journey the travelers came 
across a cemetery. The tall monuments, 
crowned by wooden crosses, threw a ghostly 
shadow over the road and induced a feeling of 


142 


A Night in the Woods 


reverence which caused the sailors, involun- 
tarily, to take off their hats. 

During the journey, Paul and Job kept up 
a running conversation. In this way, and 
with the changing scenes, the time passed very 
rapidly. Presently Singleton pulled out his 
big old-fashioned silver watch. 

“Five o’clock.” 

“I thought so,” replied Paul; “I’ve felt that 
day was breaking for the last half hour.” 

“We seem to be approaching a city,” said 
the mate. 

Paul consulted his pocket map. 

“It must be Santiago.” 

From time to time now they met other trav- 
elers ; most of them had horses or mules laden 
down with tobacco, and all were proceeding in 
the direction of the city. In a little while the 
road became a street and the two strangers 
found themselves in the heart of the city. It 
was far from imposing. Most of the dwell- 
ings were huts. Some of the larger houses 
looked as if they had been destroyed by a cy- 
clone or an earthquake. Whatever the cause, 
no attempt had been made to rebuild. The 
market square presented a picturesque sight; 
sleeping donkeys, ruined walls, and grass- 
grown streets did not speak well for the pro- 
gressive spirit of Santiago. 

They pushed on a little further and going 


A Night m the Woods 


143 


to the left discovered themselves on the edge of 
a great high bluff. Far beneath them, run- 
ning its active but tranquil course, was the 
river Yaqui, the clearness of its waters reflect- 
ing like a mirror. At this stage of the game, 
both Alphonse and Gaston began to betray 
symptoms of extreme weariness. Paul looked 
over at Singleton, whose long legs almost 
touched the ground. The boy laughed. 

“It looks as if we’d have to dismount.” 

“It does indeed,” agreed the mate, “and I’ll 
be thankful if we’re not compelled to carry 
these donkeys to the nearest inn and put them 
to bed.” 

“It’s not that bad, I hope. But where shall 
we go?” 

“Well,” said the mate, “as we went through 
the market place, I noticed a weather-beaten 
shingle hanging out of a two-story house.” 

“Was it a hotel?” 

“I’m not sure. But it had some funny 
French lettering on it and I imagined it said 
‘Accommodations for man and beast.’ ” 

“We’ll try it,” said Paul. 

Both dismounted slowly and led the donkeys 
back to the house with the weather-beaten 
shingle. The mate’s guess was correct. It 
was an inn, and the landlord, after a great 
rubbing of eyes, and running of fingers be- 
tween rumpled hair, expressed a willingness 


144 


A Night in the Woods 


to accommodate not only the man and the boy, 
but Alphonse and Gaston as well. 

“Do you think it’s safe to stop here?” asked 
Paul, turning to Job Singleton. 

“Why not?” 

“Rambo,” was the terse response. 

“Oh, we’ve got too good a start on him. 
He’s probably asleep yet. Besides, the don- 
keys won’t go any further and we’ve got to 
take a chance.” 

This logic was too convincing to admit of 
any reply, and in a few minutes the travelers 
were leading the donkeys into a stable in 
the rear of the house, where Alphonse and 
Gaston were given food and drink and all of 
the other creature comforts of good donkeys. 

Job and Paul partook of a hastily prepared 
breakfast and were then escorted to their 
room, which was a large bare apartment con- 
taining two cots. After warning the landlord 
not to let them sleep later than twelve o’clock 
under any circumstances, they threw their tired 
bodies on the mattresses and in a few minutes 
their heavy breathing announced that they 
were deep in the luxury of dreamless slumber. 

The landlord, with tropical nonchalance, 
forgot all about his guests, and going to a 
hammock in the rear of the house calmly 
climbed in and was soon lost in peaceful sleep. 
It was long past the noon hour when the warni 


A Night in the Woods 


145 


rays of the sun awakened the travelers. Job 
Singleton was the first to leap out of bed. He 
reached for his clothing, and seizing his watch 
looked at it with drowsy eyes. 

“Paul,” he shouted, “it’s after one o’clock. 
We must be up and going.” 

The boy responded immediately and in a few 
minutes they were dressed and down-stairs. 
They looked for the landlord, but could find 
no trace of him. That functionary, with a 
handkerchief thrown over his face, was still 
indulging in nature’s greatest refreshment. 
Singleton became irritated. He pounded on 
the desk with his brawny fist. No response. 
He repeated the performance. At this, a 
door in the side of the corridor opened and out 
walked the queerest specimen of humanity he 
had seen in many a long day. 

It was a colored native. He was black as 
anthracite coal and barefooted. As if to 
compensate for this, he wore a high cassimere 
hat, beneath which two or three large cabbage 
leaves, covering his head, served to protect him 
from the rays of the noon-day sun. He had 
on a calico shirt, a large navy blue cloak, very 
faded and very ragged, short trousers, patched 
in front and back, and carried a large green 
umbrella. To complete the picture, he puff ed 
away at a big cigar, several inches in diam- 
eter, and blacker than his own dusky face. 


146 


A Night in the Woods 


The moment he beheld Job and Paul, he 
poked the umbrella under his arm, took off his 
high hat, and gave them a profound bow. 

‘T want the landlord! ” shouted the mate. 

The picturesque intruder bowed again. 

‘T represent the landlord.” 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Jonah.” 

“Jonah?” 

“Yes, sir, Jonah.” 

“Jonah what?” 

“Oh,” with an engaging smile, “I never 
bother with the rest of it. Just plain Jonah.” 

“Why do they call you Jonah?” asked the 
mate, his severity relaxing a bit. 

“Don’t know,” answered the picturesque 
one, his smile growing broader, “ ’less it’s cause 
I’m such good luck.” 

“What’s your business?” 

“I’m a guide.” 

Singleton turned to Paul. 

“This is probably just the fellow we need.” 

“He could start us on the right road, any- 
how,” assented the boy. 

The guide bowed again. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“We’re bound for San Domingo City.” 

The colored gentleman removed one of the 
cabbage leaves in order to give his head a 
thoughtful scratch. 


A Night in the Woods 147 

“I don’t hardly think I could give you so 
much time.” 

“But — ” began Singleton. 

The guide raised his hands for silence. 

“It would take several days, you know, and 
my engagements — ” 

The mate interrupted this time. 

“We don’t want you to go to San Domingo. 
We only want to get started right.” 

He was about to lower his head again when 
the sailor checked him. 

“Stop bowing and talk.” 

He did stop bowing, but he did not talk. 
Instead he waited for the question that was 
coming. 

“What is the next town to this?” 

“On the way to San Domingo?” 

“Yes ” 

“Mocha.” 

“Can we make it by to-night?” 

“Yes; if you start now and travel fast.” 

“Good! Now if you’ll get us a bite to eat 
and start us off on the way to Mocha, I’ll give 
you some American silver.” 

No further suggestion was necessary. Jo- 
nah tossed aside his umbrella and his high 
hat and got to work. In a few minutes, with 
the assistance of the kitchen girl, he pre- 
pared a satisfactory lunch. Job and Paul 
started in at once, after sending Jonah to the 


148 


A Night in the Woods 

stable to prepare the donkeys for the journey. 
While they were at the table, the landlord, hav- 
ing finished his nap, came in and apologized 
profusely for his remissness. 

The offense was too ludicrous for censure, 
so they simply paid the score and went on with 
their meal. Concluding first, Paul went out 
on the veranda to take a look about the public 
square. It was inactive. A few women here 
and there with vegetables, were bargaining 
with prospective customers, but, being the 
heated time of day, most of the venders were 
quietly dozing under big umbrellas. Two 
roads, leading to the town, stretched out like 
great bands of yellow ribbons. Suddenly on 
the first road, far away in the direction of 
Monte Cristo, Paul noticed a tiny cloud of 
dust. Very slowly but very surely it came 
nearer. 

It was too far away to be discerned very 
clearly by the naked eye. Paul borrowed a 
telescope from the landlord and leveled it at 
the cloud of dust. Presently, out of the con- 
fusion, there emerged a horse and carriage. 
In a few minutes the boy could distinguish 
the figures of two men. The sight disturbed 
him very much. He rushed in to Job Sin- 
gleton. 

“Here,” he shouted, “take a look at that car- 
riage and let me know what you make of it.” 


A Night in the Woods 


140 


The mate did as he was requested. He 
looked earnestly in the direction indicated. 
For a time he seemed puzzled. After that his 
face hardened. Finally he exclaimed: 

“Paul, I know what you’re thinking and 
you’re right.” 

“You mean — ?” 

“Yes, I mean that Bill Ramho and Eli Dut- 
ton are in that carriage.” 

The boy’s face darkened. He set his lips 
firmly. He looked up at his big companion. 

“I suppose we’ve got to have it out with 
that rascal. Well, I’m prepared to do my 
part.” 

Singleton smiled. 

“Yes, we’ve got to have it out with him; but 
I don’t know whether this is the time and place 
for the performance.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that strategy is sometimes more 
certain and usually more profitable than 
force.” 

“I’m still in the dark,” insisted Paul. 

“My own mind’s not entirely clear,” laughed 
the long-limbed fellow, “but my idea is to 
dodge these rascals, if possible. We’ve got the 
key — that’s nine points of the situation. Now 
if we can keep it without fighting for it, so 
much the better. If it’s necessary to fight. I’ll 
be there.” 


150 


A Night in the Woods 

The boy knew that these were not idle 
words. He looked up at the big sailor ad- 
miringly. 

“What do you propose?” 

Singleton glanced about inquiringly. His 
eyes fell on Jonah standing in the hallway. 
He called him and diving into his pockets, put 
a handful of silver coin in the open palm of the 
guide. The smile that greeted this perform- 
ance made Jonah’s mouth stretch from ear to 
ear. 

“Jonah,” said Singleton, ‘‘you say you’re 
good luck.” 

“You can just bet I am, boss.” 

“Well, do you see that carriage coming in 
this direction?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You see the two men in it?” 

“I do.” 

“Well,” said the sailor, “I think they’re com- 
ing here. They’re very anxious to meet us; 
we’re very anxious not to meet them. If you 
can prevent the meeting. I’ll give you another 
handful of silver. Do you understand?” 

“You can just bet I do, boss,” smiled the 
colored man. 

“Now we’ve time to get to our room. Shut 
the stable door and don’t let them see our don- 
keys. That might make ’em suspicious. I 
leave the whole thing to you.” 


A Night in the Woods 151 

“Thank you, boss,” said Jonah with a grate- 
ful grin. 

The dusky guide and counselor of Santiago 
had just time to close the barn door and take 
his place on the veranda when the team drove 
up to the doorway. The horse was in a lather 
from the unwonted exertion. As it stopped, 
the red face of Bill Rambo peered from be- 
neath the curtains and the lines were thrown 
over the horse’s back. 

“What are you going to do?” growled a 
voice — the voice of Eh Dutton. 

“I’m going to get a good drink first of all. 
After that we’ll get some grub.” 

“Do you think the kid’s here?” 

The men dropped their voices at this stage 
of the conversation, so that Jonah heard no 
more. He was on the alert, however, and as 
Bill Rambo put one short leg on the hub of the 
front wheel to alight, the colored man was at 
his side with a bottle of whisky and a glass. 
The red-faced man settled back in his seat 
again with a grunt of satisfaction and grabbed 
eagerly for the spirits. 

“Well, this is hospitahty. Couldn’t beat 
this in Kentucky.” 

After the first drink he took a second. As 
he drained the glass, he handed it grudgingly to 
the second mate, who took about three fingers 
of the whisky. 


152 A Night in the Woods 

‘‘How much does that cost?” asked Rambo 
suspiciously. 

“Oh, anything you want to give,” said Jonah 
carelessly. 

Rambo handed him the smallest coin in his 
pocket, which immediately gave the black guide 
and counselor a key to the man’s nature. 
Dutton whispered with him for a moment and 
then the erstwhile Captain spoke. 

“Can we get accommodations in this hotel?” 

“Sure, boss; the best on the island.” 

Jonah’s mind was working actively now. 
He wanted to lull the men into a sense of secur- 
ity, yet wondered how far he could go into the 
game without betraying his liberal friends 
within the inn. 

“We’re after a couple of runaways,” blurted 
Rambo. 

Jonah saw his opportunity, and he grasped 
it with a quickness and a cleverness that would 
have done credit to a brighter and brainier 
man. He spoke eagerly. 

“Was one of ’em a big, long-legged man?” 

“Yes,” answered Rambo with equal eager- 
ness. 

“And the other a hoy with a smart face?” 

“Yes! yes!” cried Rambo. 

“And was they traveling on two donkeys?” 

“Oh, yes!” shouted the red-faced one, “what 


A Night in the Woods 153 

can you tell us about them? Were they 
here?” 

“Yes indeedy,” answered the colored man, 
as if it gave him joy to relate the fact. 

“Are they here now?” 

“No indeedy,” replied Jonah, never turning 
a hair. “They left here just half an hour 
ago.” 

Rambo was twitching with excitement. 

“Where did they go?” he shouted, standing 
up in the carriage. 

“They went down that first road to the 
right,” said the informant gravely, “and they 
certainly was in a mighty big hurry.” 

“The road to the right; the road to the 
right,” repeated Rambo neiwously ; “where 
does that lead to?” 

“To the coast of Hayti.” 

“Are you sure they went in that direction?” 

“Sure, boss, I seed them go myself.” 

“We’d better follow ’em,” said Rambo, 
turning to Dutton. 

“Certainly,” answered that worthy; “it’s the 
only thing to do.” 

Both men settled back in their seats and gave 
the horse the rein. The colored man ran after 
the carfiage a few paces. 

“You forgot something, boss,” he grinned. 

The driver pulled up suddenly. 


154 ) 


A Night in the Woods 


“What is it?” 

“You forgot to pay me for my news.” 

“Oh, you go to thunder!” shouted the red- 
faced one, starting off again. 

Jonah chuckled as he made his way back to 
the inn. Before going to inform the fugitives 
of their safety, he paused for a moment on the 
porch, and, turning his head, caught a last 
glimpse of the carriage, as Rambo, whipping 
up the horse, hurried post-haste in the direction 
of the Haytian coast. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE TBAVELERS MEET AND OVERCOME SEVERAL 
OBSTACLES ON THE WAY TO MOCHA 

T> EFORE Rambo was out of sight, Jonah was 
^ upstairs entertaining Job and Paul with 
a vivid recital of how he had deceived the one- 
time Captain of the Sea GulL They smiled 
as they thought of the predicament in which 
the bombastic one would shortly find himself. 
The mate, in a spirit of fun, turned toward the 
colored man. 

“Prevarication is a terrible thing.” 

“It sounds awful,” replied Jonah. 

“Of course you know what it means?” 

“I never heard of it before.” 

“Don’t plague the man,” remonstrated 
Paul. “If he’s done anything wrong, we’re 
responsible.” 

“I ain’t done nothing wrong,” asserted Jo- 
nah, with a confident shake of the head. 

Singleton patted him on the back with the 
palm of his right hand. 

“If you never do anything worse than to 

155 


156 


On the Way to Mocha 


frustrate the evil schemes of men like Bill 
Rambo, your chances of Paradise are very 
good indeed.” 

“There you go again,” cried Jonah. “Fust 
it’s prevarication; now it’s Paradise; I cer- 
tainly don’t understand that kind of lan- 
guage.” 

Job and Paul laughed heartily at the droll- 
ness of the old darky. The mate, putting his 
hand in his pocket, pulled out a fresh handful 
of silver which he transferred to Jonah’s will- 
ing palm. 

“There, now,” he exclaimed, “I’ll bet you 
understand that land of language.” 

“Oh, boss!” cried Jonah, “you’re certainly 
too good to me. I’ll sure stick by you 
through all of your troubles.” 

“Do we want him to stick by us?” asked 
Paul, dubiously. 

“That’s the question,” replied the mate per- 
plexedly. “If we take him it may be adding 
a fresh trouble to our old troubles.” 

“Oh, ’deed it won’t, boss! ’deed it won’t!” 
said J onah. “Let me go as far as Mocha with 
you anyhow. After that, if I don’t suit, you 
can send me home.” 

“Why, Jonah,” cried Paul, “you talk as if 
you really want to go with us.” 

“I do,” was the emphatic response. 

“But when you first met us you said you 


On the Way to Mocha 157 

didn’t know whether you could go as far as 
Mocha.” 

“That’s true, boss; but I didn’t know you 
then.” 

“Well,” said the mate, “there’s no use wast- 
ing a lot of time in talk. There seems to be 
some doubt whether Jonah’s going along with 
us. We’ll settle it by a toss of the coin. 
Heads he goes; tails he stays at home.” 

As he spoke, Singleton flipped a silver dollar 
in the air. Jonah watched expectantly for the 
result. Paul and Singleton, while betraying 
no outward interest, were just as eager. The 
coin rolled on the floor for a few feet and then 
dropped flat. Three pairs of eyes scanned 
its surface. They were greeted by the sight 
of the familiar head of the Goddess of Lib- 
erty. 

“Hurrah!” shouted Job and Paul in chorus; 
“you win.” 

That ear-to-ear grin appeared on the col- 
ored man’s face. 

“Well, boss number one and boss number 
two,” he said, nodding in turn to Singleton and 
the boy, “y^^ won’t ever live to regret taking 
me.” 

Without further ado, the three began prep- 
arations for their departure. Alphonse and 
Gaston were brought from the stable, still 
munching hay, and saddled for the journey. 


158 


On the Way to Mocha 


There was some question of providing a con- 
veyance for Jonah, but that individual said 
that such a proceeding was unheard-of and 
would be a reflection upon his fleet-footedness. 
So they started off, a contented and congenial 
trio. For many miles the road lay through a 
rich agricultural country — rich, however, only 
in possibilities, for most of the land was un- 
tilled. It was a bright day, and the breezes 
from the ocean were wafted across the island 
and made the blood tingle in the veins of the 
two wandering Yankees. 

They passed through a tobacco plantation, 
and Jonah showed his familiarity with the 
plant by maldng a big cigar for himself. An 
occasional covey of birds flying from one bush 
to another suggested the nearness of spring. 
Indeed, the journey was more like a well- 
planned vacation than the beginning of an 
adventure wliich held within itself the possi- 
bilities of bloodshed and murder, as well as 
fortune. 

Alphonse and Gaston were slow but sure. 
They plodded along at a leisurely gait that 
knew no variation. At times, attracted by 
little patches of vegetation, they would pause 
and munch the grass until they had their fill, 
and then jog ahead with a degree of self-satis- 
faction which was very donkey-like. Jonah 
proved more than a guide. He was truly a 


On the Way to Mocha 


159 


companion and counselor. During one por- 
tion of the journey, Paul rode several yards 
ahead of Singleton, who was talking to the 
colored man. Suddenly a shout of fear came 
from the boy. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Singleton. 

“I’m sinking!” cried Paul. 

Sure enough, the donkey, standing stock 
still with its four feet planted in the mud, 
was gradually disappearing in the sticky sub- 
stance. , 

Jonah laughed. 

“You’ve struck a quagmire,” he said. 

“That’s evident,” was the retort, “but I fail 
to see the humor of the situation.” 

The guide appeared to be familiar with such 
a condition, because he prepared to meet it in a 
calm, business-like manner. From somewhere 
he managed to bring a big wide board, which 
he threw into the mud. After that he tossed 
a rope to Paul. The boy grabbed it and the 
two men gave a violent jerk, and Paul soon 
found himself on the board and from thence 
on to solid earth. But Alphonse was still there 
looking around at them with sad, pleading 
donkey eyes. They were in the rear of the an- 
imal and he could not be pulled out by the tail. 
Other tactics would be necessary. The quag- 
mire was not very extensive, and by making a 
roundabout tour, the members of the party 


160 


On the Way to Mocha 


managed to get in front of the imprisoned an- 
imal. To add to the picturesqueness of the 
situation, he emitted a series of yawps that 
echoed and re-echoed through the wilderness. 
Jonah deftly threw a rope around the don- 
key’s head, and with the aid of Job and Paul, 
managed to pull him out of the mud. After 
that awkward incident, they picked their steps 
very carefully. Occasionally they moved to 
the right or left and went through small 
streams of water with graveled bottoms rather 
than trust themselves to the treacherous mud 
in the middle of the road. At such times their 
faces were swept by the overhanging branches 
of the trees, and it was no uncommon thing to 
find themselves covered with annoying but not 
dangerous tarantulas. 

About two o’clock in the afternoon, they 
halted near a shady nook close by a stream of 
running water, and ate a hastily improvised 
lunch of canned sardines. Jonah had a flask 
of rum with him and managed to concoct a 
punch which Singleton drank with a great 
deal of pleasure, but from which Paul asked 
to be excused. Alphonse and Gaston were 
unsaddled, and they rolled about on the ground 
with abandon and relish. More than an hour 
passed before they started again, but all were 
greatly refreshed and their journey was re- 
sumed with renewed vigor. The roads were 


On the Way to Mocha 


161 


rough, but neither the men nor the donkeys 
were greatly disturbed by that fact. Many 
small streams bordered the highway along 
which they passed. At one of them Single- 
ton halted and pointing to a big black object 
in the water, asked: 

“What is that?’’ 

“That is a cayman,” replied the guide. 

“Why, it looks like an alligator,” retorted 
the American. 

“So it is, but we call it cayman.” 

The hideous thing lay there basking peace- 
fully in the sunlight. It was fifteen or six- 
teen feet in length, its great jaws were wide 
open, and its unlovely body was covered with 
live birds. While the strangers stood looking 
at it in an awed sort of way, Jonah, who had 
become possessed of a worn-out end of broom, 
approached the dormant monster and began 
to tickle its stomach. 

“What are you trying to do?” asked Paul, 
alarmed. 

“Wait and see,” grinned the darky. 

He continued the tickling. Soon the risi- 
bilities of the monster were affected, and with 
a convulsive shudder it turned over on its 
back; and there, beneath where it had lain, 
were dozens of terrapin. Jonah, grinning all 
the while, gathered a large quantity, and plac- 
ing them in a basket, fastened it to the side of 


162 


On the Way to Mocha 

Gaston’s saddle. As they moved away, the 
alligator, with a grunt, resumed its former 
position. 

“Weren’t you afraid?” asked Paul of Jo- 
nah. 

The guide shook his head. 

“Only thing I feared was that that big lub- 
ber mightn’t turn over. Then we wouldn’t 
have any terrapin soup to-night.” 

They camped for the night beneath a tree 
with great spreading branches. The evening 
meal revealed Jonah at his best. He handled 
the terrapin with the skill of a Broadway chef, 
and served up the most appetizing dish that 
Job Singleton or Paul Parker had eaten in 
many weeks. After it was over and the mate 
had enjoyed a pull at his short-stemmed pipe, 
they retired for the night. Two hammocks 
were erected for the white men, and after the 
wholesome fatigue of the day, they slept 
soundly. Jonah rested on the ground, pillow- 
ing his woolly head upon the side of Alphonse, 
and using Gaston as a nice warm footstool. 
His slumber was not as pleasant as that of his 
two friends. The presence of some particu- 
larly anno5dng lizards, not to speak of a stray 
scorpion and an occasional centipede, was not 
conducive to continuous rest. 

However, all three were up with the sun. 


On the Way to Mocha 


163 


prepared to resume their journey. The don- 
keys were positively frisky, and, before start- 
ing, indulged in a series of brays that reminded 
Jonah of the prophecies he had heard of the 
last trumpet. The roads were not so bad as 
they had been — an improvement due to the 
fact that they were approaching a town. 
After riding for more than an hour. Job and 
Paul dismounted for the purpose of indulging 
in the luxuries of pedestrianism. The don- 
keys paused to graze. Jonah, nothing loath, 
remained with the animals, while the two sail- 
ors proceeded on their way. 

“This seems like a deserted country,” ob- 
served Paul to his companion. “Here we’ve 
been going it for twenty-four hours and we 
haven’t met a human being.” 

“Perhaps it’s just as well,” replied the long- 
headed sailor. “I don’t imagine the sort of 
people you might meet in these woods would 
make good company.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that a revolution is on in Hayti, 
and the hardest characters in San Domingo 
are on the way to take part in the muss.” 

“How do you know all tliis?” 

The mate laughed. 

“The landlord of the inn told me. You 
don’t suppose IVe been sitting around like a 


164 


On the Way to Mocha 


bump on a log, do you? I’m interested in the 
country and I’ve asked questions of every one 
I’ve met.” 

“I didn’t think we’d run any danger of rev- 
olutionists in this part of the country.” 

“In a tropical country,” said Singleton, 
sagely, “there is always danger.” 

As he spoke, he was attracted by a rustling 
sound some yards ahead of them. Paul’s 
glance followed that of the older man. Si- 
multaneously, they beheld two soldiers coming 
from behind a tree. They were colored and 
were grotesquely attired. Their uniforms 
looked as if they had been picked up in a dime 
museum. One carried a rusty-looking mus- 
ket, while the other wore a red belt from which 
a scabbarded sword was suspended. They 
continued marching ahead until they were di- 
rectly in front of the two strangers. 

“Halt and give the countersign!” exclaimed 
the first warrior. 

Job and Paul halted instantly. The mate 
smiled broadly. 

“We can stand still,” he said, “but we can’t 
give you the countersign because we haven’t 
got any.” 

“No levity,” cried the second soldier, with 
an attempt at dignity he could scarcely main- 
tain. “Are you friends or enemies?” 


On the Way to Mocha 165 

“Well,” said Paul hesitatingly, “we’re not 
enemies.” 

“Are you for or against Hayti?” 

Job looked at Paul and Paul looked at Job. 
It was the mate who spoke. 

“Well, as to that, I should say we were for 
Hayti.” 

“Good,” responded the soldier promptly. 
“We are going to join the patriot army. 
Come with us.” 

Here was a dilemma. 

“Oh — oh,” stammered the mate; “oh — ^the 
fact is, we’re very busy. We must get to San 
Domingo as soon as — ” 

“No excuses,” thundered the soldier, “if 
you won’t give us your services, give us your 
money. Come on! Shell out what you’ve 
got and do it quickly. We’re in a hurry.” 

“Buncoed!” muttered the mate. 

“Robbers, not soldiers!” muttered the 
boy. 

At this juncture Jonah arrived on the scene, 
leading Alphonse and Gaston by their respect- 
ive bridles. The two military persons took 
immediate alarm. The first one put his hand 
on the handle of his scabbard in a menacing 
way, while the other, dropping his musket, 
put his hand in his back pocket and pulled out 
an old army revolver. 


166 On the Way to MocTia 

“Who is this man?” he cried, pointing to 
Jonah. 

Singleton smiled. 

“I suppose he would be officially designated 
as the master of the horse. We have him with 
us for good luck.” 

The two soldiers scowled. 

“If you dare to move,” exclaimed the one 
with the pistol, pointing it at the colored man, 
“I’ll blow your brains out.” 

“You can’t do that, boss,” retorted Jonah, 
shaking his head sagely. 

“Why not?” was the suspicious query. 

“Cause I ain’t got no brains.” 

Job and Paul, despite their situation, 
laughed outright. The highwaymen, appar- 
ently, did not see the humor of the retort. 

“If you dare to lift your hand,” repeated 
the first one, “I’ll kill you.” 

“All right, boss,” replied Jonah, shaking 
his head comically. “I won’t lift my band. 
I got nuff to tend to watching these here don- 
keys.” 

In the meantime the fellow pointed his pis- 
tol at Job and Paul. 

“Now pull out your pockets!” he cried. 

The second robber advanced toward the man 
and the boy to complete the pillage. Jonah, 
who had been studiously employed with the 
donkeys, now managed to work Alphonse 


On the Way to Mocha 


16 T 


around in such a position that his back was 
within a few feet of the man with the weapon. 
The darky lay down against the animals in 
the most innocent manner imaginable. He 
had a wisp of straw in his hand and with this 
he tickled the left flank of the donkey. The 
next instant Alphonse raised his two hind legs 
in the air and shot them out with the force of 
a battering ram. The ghttering shoes struck 
the pistol and sent it flying ten yards away, 
while the robber, getting the full force of the 
blow in the side, fell sprawling to the earth. 
With the quickness of thought. Job Singleton 
grasped the situation. He let out his sturdy 
right arm and highwayman number two joined 
his comrade on the ground. Jonah was al- 
ready on top of the first fellow and held him 
pinned to the earth. Paul was about to go to 
the assistance of Singleton, but the mate waved 
him off, saying: 

“Go to my saddle, boy, and get a rope and 
bring it to me.’’ 

Paul obeyed. 

Singleton took the rope and with it he se- 
curely bound the man’s hands behind him. 
The performance was repeated in every detail 
with the second fellow. The patriots were 
then relieved of their weapons. After that, 
they were stood upon their feet. While this 
was going on, Paul had conceived an idea 


168 


On the Way to Mocha 


which he was hurriedly carrying into exe- 
cution. He had two cards, several inches in 
diameter, and upon them he wrote with a bit 
of crayon, the words: “We are thieves.” 

These cards were pinned conspicuously 
upon the bosoms of the two counterfeit 
soldiers. When all was in readiness, the 
culprits were pointed in the direction of 
Monte Cristo. Singleton spoke with all the 
severity at his command: 

“Now go! Keep moving all the time, and 
if either of you dares to look back. I’ll fill your 
precious carcasses with hot lead.” 

And they marched away with military-like 
precision. Job, Paul and Jonah watched 
them until they were out of sight, and all the 
time, they looked neither to the right nor to the 
left, but kept on their way to the sea-coast. - 


CHAPTER XV 


THE ADVENTURERS ARE AFFORDED A FLEETING 
GLIMPSE OF BILL RAMBO 

rilHE moment the mock soldiers were out of 
sight Paul Parker turned and threw his 
arms around the shaggy neck of Alphonse. 
The donkey, unused to such demonstrations of 
affection, blinked furiously, and finally re- 
lieved his pent-up feelings by a succession 
of frightful brays. Job Singleton looked 
on curiously. 

“What’s the matter, Paul; losing your 
wits?” 

“Xo, Mr. Singleton, I’m only trying to 
thank our preserver.” 

“All right, but while you’re at it,” ob- 
served the mate dryly, ''you might bestow 
a little attention on Jonah.” 

Paul rushed over and put out his hand to 
the guide. Jonah took it rather sheep- 
ishly. 

“You know we’re grateful to you, don’t 
you?” exclaimed the boy fervently. 

“Sure I do, Mr. Paul; but I done guess 

169 


170 


Bill Ramho Again 


you’re right. I think Master Alphonse here 
deserves the most credit.” 

“Well,” said the mate, as if to end the con- 
troversy, “I guess there’s glory enough to 
go ’round.” 

“Sure,” cried Jonah with his never-fail- 
ing grin; “I ain’t a bit jealous of that there 
donkey.” 

Laughing blithely, they resumed their jour- 
ney to Mocha. In the course of half an hour, 
they came in sight of the town. It was 
picturesque, nesthng in a plain at the foot 
of the great hills. They met a number of 
people on the roads leading into the city, 
and occasionally passed a little cabin. Most 
of the inhabitants were white and the stores 
and dwellings, painted blue and white, had an 
air of neatness and prosperity not to be seen 
in other parts of the island. Quite a number 
of girls walked through the streets cariying 
bundles on their heads. They had pearly 
skins, with rosy cheeks and coal-black hair. 
Indeed, the people and the houses looked 
more like those of the United States than any- 
thing the travelers had seen since they left the 
Delaware breakwater. 

They spent the day and the night in Mocha 
visiting the coif ee plantations, which were 
numerous and well cultivated. The next 
morning, with the saddlebags filled with pro- 


Bill Rambo Again 


171 


visions, the journey was resumed. On the out- 
skirts of the town they passed through a 
beautiful avenue of evergreen trees. After 
that, the country became more barren, al- 
though not entirely devoid of interest. At 
one point in the trip Jonah left the other mem- 
bers of the party in order to renew the 
supply of water. He returned in a few min- 
utes terribly excited. 

“Come with me!” he exclaimed. “Come 
with me!” 

They followed him to the banks of a muddy 
stream. He pointed to the water, but they 
could see nothing. 

“What is it?” asked Paul. 

Jonah looked; rubbed his eyes, and then 
looked again. Disappointment clouded his 
face. 

“You’re too late!” he cried, “it’s gone.” 

“What’s gone?” queried Singleton. 

“The sea-cow.” 

“The sea-cow?” exclaimed the man and boy 
in chorus. 

“Yes,” replied Jonah. “It was a won- 
der. When I came here to get the water it 
was half way up the banks of the stream. It 
looked something like a seal, only bigger and 
not so fine. I hurried to find you so you could 
get a peep, but it’s gone now, it’s gone.” 

“Jonah,” said Singleton, “I hope you 


17 ^ Bill Ramho Again 

haven’t been drinking up all of that Ja- 
maica rum.” 

“Oh, boss, I haven’t had a drop this morn- 
ing.” 

“What, not a drop?” 

“Well,” reluctantly, “not over two or three 
drinks.” 

The incident of the sea-cow served as a 
topic of conversation for over an hour. 

The weather was delightful, and about 
noon Paul and Job varied the monotony of 
the trip by indulging in a bath. The wa- 
ter was as clear as crystal and as invig- 
orating as new life. 

When the two Americans came out of the 
water, Jonah rubbed them with a rough towel 
until their skin glowed with health and vital- 
ity. After that, they ate their frugal lunch 
with a joy that would have been envied by 
many a plutocrat. The afternoon jaunt led 
them through a sugar-producing country. 
The cane brakes were intensely interest- 
ing to the man and the boy, who had never 
gazed on such a sight before. Finally they 
came to a hard broad road which brought them 
to the town of La Vega. 

The habitation, situated on the banks 
of a beautiful river, seemed to be thrifty 
and well kept. A score of wooden houses, 
plainly furnished, nestled about the village 


Bill Ramho Again 


173 


square. The strangers only remained here for 
a few hours, but in that time they had an op- 
portunity of viewing all that was worth 
seeing. The chief place of interest was the 
La Vega Cathedral, an imposing structure, 
with handsome pillared arches and solid 
walls of stone. It was deserted when they en- 
tered, but there was something about the an- 
cient edifice which filled the rough sailor and 
his young companion with deep rever- 
ence. Involuntarily, they fell upon their 
knees on the stone pavement before the high 
altar, and offered grateful thanks to God for 
all the graces and blessings He had bestowed 
upon them. After that a peculiar feeling of 
contentment pervaded their minds, and they 
left the sacred place feeling strangely peace- 
ful. 

From La Vega they started for Cotuy, a 
town of some importance. Tobacco farms 
lined the sides of the roads through which 
they passed. Here and there they encoun- 
tered a native farmer who was engaged in the 
experiment of pig raising. Outward appear- 
ances would indicate only a partial success, 
for the places were badly kept and the 
pigs ill-favored. A portion of the jour- 
ney lay along the river Yuna, a stream which 
was alternately muddy and clear, but which, 
jiear its source, bubbled and flowed with an 


174 


Bill Ramho Again 


inexhaustible supply of crystal water. It 
w’^as about dusk when they arrived at Co- 
tuy. Accommodations for travelers were 
so poor that they were compelled to accept 
the hospitality of a semi-public house. It was 
owned by a man and his wife who seemd per- 
petually tired and who at first absolutely re- 
fused to consider such a thing as guests. The 
sight of a handful of silver, minted in the 
United States of America, however, proved 
to be an effective argument, and by the 
time the village church bells were ringing 
the Angelus, Job and Paul and Jonah had 
been installed and were engaged in doing jus- 
tice to an appetizing supper. 

The cups, saucers, bowls and ladles were 
all fashioned out of cocoanut shells. They 
were immaculately clean and that fact more 
than compensated for their strangeness. The 
totally unexpected treat of a mince pie was a 
pleasure to Job and Paul, but the mere sight 
of it sent Jonah into ecstasies of delight. 
After supper the host said he could let the 
mate and the boy have a bed in the second 
story back room, while the guide would be fur- 
nished with a hammock beneath a thatch hut 
adjoining the house. This being perfectly 
agreeable, all hands sat about the center table 
in the main room and engaged in pleasant con- 
versation. The host, who confessed that he 


Bill Rambo Again 


175 


was from Louisiana, spoke perfect Eng- 
lish, and that, of course, added immensely to 
the enjoyment of the strangers. During a 
lull in the general talk, Paul turned to Single- 
ton and said in a low voice : 

“Have you forgotten about Rambo?” 

“Forgotten,” cried the mate, “why, the ras- 
cal has not been out of my mind for a min- 
ute.” 

“Do you think he’s reached Hayti yet?” 
asked the boy with a laugh. 

“Yes, and started back again by this time.” 

• “Do you think he’ll suspect our destina- 
tion?” 

“Certainly; Rambo’s no fool. He’ll dis- 
cover that the quickest way to Jamaica is by 
the way of San Domingo, and he’ll make for 
that port at once.” 

“According to that he is on our heels.” 

“I don’t doubt it at all,” assented the sailor, 
“but I think we’ve got a good start of him.” 

“We lingered in some of the towns a long 
while,” said Paul, dubiously. 

“Yes, that’s true, but still I believe we have 
a good lead.” 

“I hope so,” was the doubtful reply. 

“Don’t be discouraged!” exclaimed the 
mate, giving the boy a hearty slap on the back. 
“We’re not going to let a big lubber like that 
get the best of us,” 


176 


Bill Ramho Again 


Paul was so drowsy that he could scarcely 
sit up in his chair. Jonah deliberately lay 
down on the floor and went sound asleep. Job 
Singleton, noticing the weariness of his com- 
panion, jumped to his feet. 

“Come on, my hearties. We’d better go to 
bed like Christians and get a good snooze and 
start off early in the morning.” 

Before retiring they went to the stables and 
made sure that Alphonse and Gaston were 
comfortably housed for the night. They had 
all become very fond of the homely little don- 
keys, and took care to see that they were given 
every possible attention. Paul playfully 
placed a handful of corn in the pocket of his 
coat and Alphonse followed him about the sta- 
ble and, poking his comical nose in the warm 
receptacle, ate every grain of the food. The 
animals being cared for, and Jonah escorted 
to his thatched hut. Job and Paul retired to 
their own room. It was a large plain apart- 
ment with bare floors and shingled walls. 
There were two wide windows, one in front 
and the other in the rear, and both, according 
to custom, were open. The bed, very broad 
and very comfortable, was in the center of 
the room. They brought a tallow dip up- 
stairs, but the moon shone so brightly that they 
had no need for artificial light. They talked 


Bill Rambo Again 


177 


briskly while they disrobed, hanging their 
clothing on the posts at the foot of the 
bed. Twenty minutes after entering the 
room both lay under the covers with closed 
eyes. After some further desultory talk, 
came the final farewells. 

“Good night, Paul.” 

“Good night, Mr. Singleton.” 

After that, silence. 

At intervals, the croaking of the frogs in a 
near-by pond broke the quiet. Presently the 
slamming of the front door and the creaking 
of the bare stairs announced that the host had 
closed the house and was retiring for the 
night. Again came the tropical quiet — 
a quiet that cannot be adequately described 
in words. The heavy breathing of the man 
and the boy proclaimed that they were sleeping 
the sleep that comes to those in good health. 
How long this continued neither of them 
knew. Singleton was the first to open his 
eyes. It must have been one or two o’clock in 
the morning. He lay awake for some min- 
utes. Presently, his attention was at- 
tracted by a creaking sound in the back 
of the house. He listened intently. The 
sound was repeated several times. The 
meaning of it fiashed through his alert brain. 
Some one was trying to get into their room. 


178 


Bill Ramho Again 


He turned over softly, and gently touched 
Paul on the arm. The boy awakened imme- 
diately. 

“What’s the matter?” he cried. 

“Sh! sh!” whispered the mate. 

“What is it?” asked Paul, lowering his 
voice. 

“Some one is trying to climb into this room,” 
said the mate. 

“All right,” was the answer in perfectly self- 
possessed tones; “lie still; don’t move.” 

The scraping noise became more prominent. 
Moment by moment it became closer. Two 
pairs of eyes were strained in the direction of 
the open window. Finally, when the tension 
had almost reached the breaking-point, a round 
bullet head shoved itself above the edge of 
the window sill. It remained in that posi- 
tion for several seconds. Then it began to 
move again. A broad forehead seamed with 
wrinkles appeared in view. The two figures 
in the bed betrayed some agitation. Singleton 
reached over to a chair and seized the old army 
pistol he had taken from the counterfeit sol- 
dier. In the meantime, their eyes remained 
glued on the open window. The figure took 
a fresh hold on the outside and lifted itself a 
foot higher. The next moment a pair of dull 
gray eyes — mere specks set in a flabby face — 
peered into the dark room, 


Bill Ramho Again 179 

“Bill Rambo!” gasped the boy in an under- 
tone. 

“So it is, by cricky,” whispered the mate, 
making a move to get out of bed; “I’ll soon 
settle his hash!” 

But Paul put out a restraining hand. 

“Be still; don’t move.” 

The voice, so low that only Singleton could 
hear it, was the voice of command, and he 
obeyed. He grumbled a bit, though, just to 
show he was not thoroughly satisfied. 

“I’m not afraid,” he whispered. 

“It’s not that,” murmured the boy, “do as I 
say.” 

The head was now above the window sill. 
The moon, shining in all of its glory, played 
on the ugly face like a calcium light. Bill 
Rambo was not a handsome man to look on at 
any time, but now he was positively repulsive. 
The always-flabby face was bloated. The 
stubby nose, grown quite red, sparkled like a 
polished ruby. The thick neck, with its coarse 
flesh, was, as usual, innocent of collar or tie. 
He was breathing heavily. After a brief 
pause, during which he made a hasty sur- 
vey of the darkened room, he poked a short 
leg over the sill and climbed inside. He must 
have been bootless, for his tread was soft and 
noiseless. 

Again Singleton made a move as if to leap 


180 


Bill Ramho Again 


from the bed, and again he was restrained by 
his young companion. Paul gripped him 
tightly by the arm, and the grip had more 
force than a spoken command. Resignedly, 
the mate lay back on his pillow to see the thing 
out. Rambo had his eye fastened on the left 
bedpost. The sleepers instantly divined the 
reason. Paul’s trousers were there and 
Rambo was after the key of the golden chest. 
Cautiously he advanced, step by step, until he 
was able to grasp the garment. He did so 
deftly, and rolling the trousers up into a bun- 
dle, he put them under his arm, and then re- 
treated softly and climbed out of the window. 

No sooner had the head disappeared over the 
sill than Job Singleton leaped out of bed with 
a snort of anger. 

“You must enjoy being robbed,” he cried in 
suppressed tones. 

“Sh! sh!” whispered Paul, putting his fin- 
gers to his lips. 

“Oh!” said the mate angrily, “I’m tired of 
this hushing business. Tell me why you let 
that fellow get away with your pants. He 
knew the key of the chest was in your pocket. 
Did you want him to get it?” 

Paul’s only reply was to take Singleton by 
the arm and lead him, with cat-like tread, 
to the window. The moon, still shining 
brightly, threw its silvery rays on a carriage 


181 


Bill Ramho Again 

standing in the roadway. Eli Dutton was on 
the front seat holding the reins, and Rambo, 
with the trousers under his arm, hastened to 
the team and jumped in. Dutton gave the 
whip to the horse and it started away at a wild 
gait. 

“Well?” said Singleton, looking at Paul. 

“Well?” retorted Paul, “we’re rid of two 
bad men.” 

“Yes,” snorted the mate, “and you are minus 
your pants.” 

“I can buy a better pair from the landlord 
for a dollar,” said Paul placidly. 

“But the key of the chest? You can’t buy 
that from the landlord.” 

Paul walked over to the bed and tossed his 
pillow aside. A httle chamois bag lay there. 
He opened it and calmly drew forth the key 
that had been given in his keeping by his dy- 
ing uncle. He turned to Singleton. 

“I hope you’re satisfied now.” 

The mate bowed his head in understanding. 

“I am.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


PURSUERS AND PURSUED COME TO CLOSE QUAR- 
TERS AND EIGHT IT OUT IN THE WIDOW ’s 
PASS 

D aylight had scarcely ‘broken before Job 
Singleton and Paul Parker were out of 
bed preparing for the resumption of their 
journey. As the boy had foreseen, he had no 
difficulty in obtaining a pair of trousers, and 
for a sum that was truly insignificant. Both 
realized, however, that Rambo’s eagerness to 
possess the key of the chest indicated a des- 
peration that would stop at nothing. The 
time for strategy had passed. They must 
press forward as rapidly as possible, and 
if need be fight face to face for the owner- 
ship of the prize. Jonah, who slept like a 
top, was aroused, and he quickly prepared Al- 
phonse and Gaston for the road. 

J onah was in a musical mood, and his sing- 
ing, together with the antics of the donkeys, 
brightened what would otherwise have been 
a rather depressing start. They had not 

gone far before they beheld the hills of San 
182 


The Fight m the Widow^s Pass 18S 

Carlos glistening in the sunlight, and beyond 
that the gradually rising peaks of the 
mountain which they would have to climb. 
Singleton looked forward to the great mass 
of rock and gravel and vegetation with doubt- 
ing eyes. He turned to Jonah. 

“I don’t believe in crossing mountains be- 
fore you get to them, but how in the world are 
we ever going to get over that awful thing?” 

Jonah’s grin made his teeth sparkle hke 
rows of pearls. 

“No trouble at all, boss. I’ll take you to 
an opening called the Widow’s Pass, and if 
we’re a httle bit industrious, we ought to be 
on the other side of that mountain by supper 
time,” 

“Oh,” said the sailor, much relieved, “that 
sounds better.” 

This portion of the country was more thickly 
populated than the other end of the island. 
Native huts, without doors or windows, and 
with thatched roofs, were conspicuous every- 
where. The business of cattle raising was 
much in evidence, a sign that the people were 
not only industrious, but also that they had 
some knowledge of business methods. As 
they neared the foothills, the country be- 
came more heavily wooded, and there were 
numerous fruit orchards in a fair state of cul- 
tivation. Just before reaching San Carlos, 


184 The Fight in the Widow* s Pass 

they found their way obstructed by a wide 
stream. The water was clear and shallow.- 
While they were debating how to cross, a wa- 
terman with a raft, which was propelled by 
means of a long pole, came along and offered 
to push them to the other side. They accepted 
with alacrity. The float was not large enough 
to include Alphonse and Gaston, and as Jonah 
refused to be separated from the donkeys, he 
volunteered to wade across with the animals. 
Singleton and the boy reached the other side 
without incident. The donkeys stoutly re- 
sisted the attempt to drive them into the water 
and the guide had to push them in, one 
at a time, by main force. The moment Al- 
phonse and Gaston touched the cold water, 
they began to bray vociferously. Jonah 
pressed them on, however, and when their feet 
touched the graveled bottom of the stream, 
the water was almost up to their eyes. They 
halted, and for awhile refused to either go 
forward or backward. Jonah mounted the 
back of Alphonse and took Gaston by the 
bridle, and by dint of much persuasiveness, 
in which sundry lumps of sugar figured, he 
managed to get them to the other side of the 
stream. 

Once on firm earth again, they trav- 
eled very rapidly and in a short time were 
at the foothills of San Carlos. The donkeys, 


^he Fight in the Widow^s Pass 185 

accustomed to the country, went up the incline 
slowly and without any great difficulty. Oc- 
casionally they stumbled on a protruding 
stone and at times they had to be prodded, 
but on the whole, their locomotion was about 
as satisfactory as it had been on the level 
ground. In the course of fifteen minutes, the 
travelers reached the opening in the mountain 
known as the Widow’s Pass. It was quite 
steep and very narrow — so much so that oc- 
casionally they were obhged to go along in 
single file. At such times. Job Singleton led 
the procession, closely followed by Paul. 
After the boy came the two donkeys, and 
finally Jonah. The Americans carried long 
poles while the guide contented himself with 
a short thick stick. The constant upward 
tramp was breath taking, but the beauty of 
the surroundings compensated for the dis- 
comfort. Half way up all of the party sat 
down and enjoyed the luxury of an hour’s 
rest. Then the trip was resumed in good 
spirits, Jonah singing, the donkeys braying, 
Paul laughing and Job shouting out mock in- 
structions. 

The mate as usual was in the foreground. 
At that psychological moment he glanced up- 
ward and the sight that met his gaze caused 
him to stand stock still. Of necessity, the 
entire procession halted. The cause of the 


186 The Fight in the Widow* s Pass 

consternation stood on a level table of ground 
near the very center of the Widow’s Pass. 

It was !]Bdl It-anibo and Pih Dutton. Tfhe 
two desperate characters were not slow to no- 
tice the confusion of the approaching party. 
Moreover, they relished the fact. It was Bill 
Rambo who, with a fiendish smirk about his 
thin lips, spoke: 

“Welcome to our mountain home!” 

Singleton, who was doing a great deal of 
thinking, paid no attention to the mock salu- 
tation. He realized that Rambo and Dutton 
were making a final stand, and that their only 
hope of reaching San Domingo was by doing 
so over the prostrate bodies of the two evil 
ones. Mentally he measured forces. It was 
three to two. He had the old army pistol in 
his belt. Paul had a repeating revolver, 
while Jonah was armed with his stout stick. 
On the other hand, Rambo and Dutton had 
possession of the pass, and in the mountain 
more than elsewhere possession is nine points 
of the law. Besides, the two sailors had the 
manifest advantage of being above them. To 
retreat would be rank cowardice and might be 
fatal. It would be to abandon the quest for 
which they had already come so many miles 
by land and by sea. Paul was at the mate’s 
side and waited anxiously for his decision. 
The big fellow was not many seconds in com- 


The Fight in the Widow's Pass 187 

ing to a conclusion. Instead of announcing 
it immediately, he tried the boy. 

“Shall we advance or retreat?” 

“Advance!” was the prompt and unhesi- 
tating response. 

Rambo, from his point of vantage, noticed 
the upward movement of the caravan, and he 
was not surprised. He gave Job and Paul 
credit for personal courage and did not dis- 
count their strength in the battle that was to 
come. There was a sneer on his lips though, 
as he called out : 

“We’re going to give you fellows a chance 
for your lives. If you’re willing to come up 
here and talk it over under a flag of truce, all 
right. If we can’t come to terms, then we’ll 
fight it out. What do you say?” 

“We’re agreeable,” replied Singleton, with- 
out waiting to consult with Paul. 

“What’s the use of dickering with that fel- 
low,” whispered the boy, “you can’t trust him 
out of your sight.” 

“We won’t let him out of our sight,” was 
the good-humored retort. “We’ll hear what 
he has to say. Every foot higher we get up 
the mountain is in our favor.” 

They advanced slowly. Finally they 
reached the spot where their antagonists were 
waiting, and here they halted. The climb 
had been along a narrow passageway which 


188 The Fight in the Widow* s Pass 

compelled them to journey single file. The 
place where they stood was a wide level pla- 
teau. The path beyond it, leading to the 
other side of the mountain, was so narrow as 
only to admit one person at a time. Rambo 
and Dutton stood at the entrance to this path, 
effectually blocking the progress of the new- 
comers. In spite of this fact, Singleton was 
amazed that a man like Rambo should have 
permitted his opponents the opportunity of 
getting on a level with him — especially as the 
odds were to be as three to two. But the 
explanation quickly presented itself. The 
moment they stood facing one another, 
Rambo gave a low whistle and two men came 
creeping from behind a near-by tree. 

Job and Paul involuntarily gave a start. 
The newcomers were the two thieves with 
whom they had had the adventure the day be- 
fore. When they had tied the arms of the 
mock soldiers and placarded them and sent 
them on their way to Monte Cristo, they little 
thought they would come back to plague them 
and at such an inopportune time. It did not 
require a very keen brain to understand the 
situation. 

After Rambo and Dutton had returned 
from their wild goose chase to the coast of 
Hayti, the first persons they met were the 
bound and placarded soldiers. Naturally^ 


The Fight in the Wido'vFs Pass 189 

they halted and heard the story of the curious 
looking ones. Naturally, also, the thieves 
blamed their troubles on Job Singleton and 
Paul Parker. And finally, as a bit of poetic 
justice, the piratical sailors got the land 
sharks to join with them in wreaking venge- 
ance on the man and the boy. All this time 
Paul and Singleton stood facing Rambo and 
Dutton. It was the red-faced and blear-eyed 
Captain who spoke. 

“You’re a smart pair, but you’re not quite 
as smart as you think you are. I ought to 
throw you down the side of this mountain, 
but I’m a peaceable man and I hate blood- 
shed.” 

Paul, incautiously, laughed outright at this 
declaration. Singleton, knowing the temper 
of Rambo, put a restraining hand on the boy. 
The erstwhile Captain continued: 

“The odds are against you — you’re not too 
blind to see that, I hope. It’s a case of four 
to three and two of these gentlemen have a 
special reason for getting even with you. 
But, if you’re agreeable, we’ll avoid a muss. 
Consent to one thing and we’ll part as 
friends.” 

“What is it?” asked Singleton. 

“That kid there,” pointing to Paul, “has a 
little bag which contains a key and a check, 
which key and check are my property. I ask 


190 The Fight in the Widow^s Pass 

you to make him hand ’em over to me. Do 
this and I’ll guarantee you there’ll be no 
trouble.” 

“Ask him what he’s done with my pants,” 
interrupted Paul mockingly. 

Rambo’s face became purplish with rage. 
He shook his fist at the boy in a menacing 
way. His fury made his words almost un- 
intelligible. 

“I’ll be the death of you before long. 
You’re one of the smarty kind. You was 
never taught that boys should be seen and not 
heard.” 

Paul was thrilling with indignation. In 
spite of the dangerous situation, he could not 
restrain himself. He turned to Singleton 
with a look of amazement and pointing his 
finger at Bill Rambo, cried out: 

“Why, I do beheve the old thief’s preach- 
ing.” 

“Thief! thief!” spluttered the red-faced 
one. 

“Yes, thief!” shouted the boy, throwing 
discretion to the winds. “You stole my un- 
cle’s ship and changed its name with the aid of 
that pirate by your side, and not satisfied with 
that, you were so stupid that you let her go to 
the bottom of the sea.” 

“Stupid!” cried Rambo in a voice that 
sounded like a moan. 


The Fight In the Widow's Pass 


191 


“Yes, all that and more,” shrieked Paul. 
“I know you and I know you are a coward!” 

That was the climax. The blood left the 
man’s face. He made a leap forward. 

“Do you give up that bag?” 

“No!” shouted the boy, “a thousand times 
no!” 

“Good boy, Paul!” exclaimed Singleton 
exultingly, patting him on the back. “I’m 
with you to the end.” 

At these words the infuriated man turned 
on the mate. He pulled a pistol from his 
pocket and aiming it straight at Job Single- 
ton, snapped the trigger. The report rang 
out clear and sharp on the mountain-side, but 
man proposes and a Higher Power disposes. 
Rambo’s hand wavered just the fraction of an 
inch, and the shot intended for the heart of 
his adversary missed its aim and, whizzing 
past the mate’s head, clipped off a tiny piece 
of his left ear. Simultaneously with Ram- 
bo’s move, Dutton also produced a pistol, but 
before he had time to raise the trigger, Jonah, 
with amazing swiftness of foot, was behind 
him and had knocked the weapon from his 
grasp. Both men stooped down to pick it 
up, and both tumbled over on their heads. As 
they made a second attempt, a chance kick 
on the part of Dutton pushed the weapon on 
the edge of the plateau, and it went rolhng 


192 The Fight in the Widow^s Pass 

down the sides of the mountain. The two 
thieves, armed with stout clubs, rushed into 
the melee and began pounding right and left 
regardless of consequences. To add to the 
general confusion, Alphonse and Gaston 
brayed at the top of their voices, and flourished 
their heels about in impartial and vigorous 
fashion. 

As the battle proceeded. Job Singleton 
pulled out the old army revolver, but the trig- 
ger caught and it was rendered useless at the 
outset. Paul fired one ineffectual shot with 
his weapon and then it was knocked from his 
hand by a blow from a club wielded by one 
of the thieves. Presently Singleton and 
Rambo, finding themselves without weapons, 
engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle. Both 
men had a knowledge of the fistic art and they 
utilized it to the limit without being handi- 
capped by rules or the decisions of a referee. 
In the meantime Dutton struck Jonah on the 
back of the head with the handle of his re- 
volver and the faithful guide, spinning around 
once or twice, fell down in a heap, uncon- 
scious. This was the beginning of the end. 
The wrestling match between Rambo and 
Singleton continued. Once the men went so 
close to the edge of the mountain that it 
seemed a miracle that they were not thrown 
into the ravine below. Fighting and strug- 


The Fight in the Widow's Pass 


193 


gling all the while, they rolled back to the cen- 
ter again. 

In the meantime, Dutton and the two rob- 
bers quickly overcame the boy. The first 
thief produced a cord from his pocket and 
with it they tied Paul, hand and foot, and left 
him lying on the ground. After that it re- 
quired but a few minutes for the four men 
to best Job Singleton. The mate fought like 
a mad man and when it was over, his face 
was covered with blood. Thief number two 
promptly bound his hands and feet. After 
that, the two rascals pulled out the placards 
containing the declarations, “We are thieves,” 
and pinned them on the man and boy. Job 
and Paul understood. They were getting a 
dose of their own medicine. 

“Now,” shouted Rambo, gloatingly, 
“search the boy.” 

Dutton went through Paul’s pockets with 
alacrity. He produced a curious collection, 
including a lot of silver money, a ten penny 
nail, a ball of twine, a bunch of keys, a pen- 
knife, and a battered silver knife. They were 
turned over to the Captain. He pawed 
through the lot impatiently. 

“Rubbish,” he cried. “Try again.” 

They did so, but with no further result. 
Rambo was very angry. 

“I want a chamois bag!” he exclaimed. 




The Fight in the Widow^s Pass 


Paul was bruised and bleeding, but a streak 
of humor in his composition could not be re- 
pressed. He looked at the angry Captain 
with a curious twinkle in his eyes. 

“Do you want to know where to find it?” 

“Yes,” said Rambo sullenly. 

“Look in the pants you stole from my 
room.” 

The Captain uttered a dreadful oath. He 
would have struck the boy had he not been dis- 
tracted by a sensible remark by Eh Dutton. 

“How about looking around his neck?” said 
that worthy. 

“The very thing,” cried the Captain; “do 
it.” 

The search proceeded. Sure enough, the 
chamois bag was suspended by a string about 
the boy’s neck. It was cut away and handed 
to the Captain. He opened it and out came 
the brass check and the key of the golden 
chest. Rambo could not conceal his exulta- 
tion. He put the two articles back in the bag 
and hugged it to his breast in an ecstasy of 
dehght. Jonah lay on the ground uncon- 
scious. Job and Paul were bound and help- 
less. The piratical procession started off on 
the narrow pathway leading to San Domingo. 
The two thieves went first. The neighing of 
horses in the neighborhood indicated that they 
were prepared for a hasty flight. Eh Dut- 


The Fight in the Widow'^s Pass 195 

ton followed the robbers and Bill Rambo 
brought up the rear, triumphantly shaking 
the chamois bag in the air so that Paul could 
see it until his victors were lost to view by a 
sharp turn in the mountain path. 


CHAPTER XVII 


PAUL AND JOB, AFTER STRAYING INTO A 
STRANGE CAVE, TUMBLE OYER TWO FAMILIAR 
FORMS 



N hour later, Paul Parker, still bound 


hand and foot, turned his glance toward 
Job Singleton, who was in a similar plight, 
and said softly: 

“Mr. Singleton.” 

“Well,” said the mate, moving his head by 
a great effort, “what is it?” 

“Do you know what has been running 
through my head ever since those fellows 


left?” 


“No; what is it?” 

“I’ve been wondering why Bill Rambo 


didn’t kill us.” 


“You have?” said the mate in an awed 
voice. 

“I have,” replied the boy. “Can you tell 
me why?” 

Singleton shook his head. 

“The conundrum is too much for me. Now 
that you mention it, I am a little surprised 


196 


In the Cave 


197 


myself. In the excitement of the fight, I 
never thought of life or death.” 

“I can hardly believe he was prompted by 
any good motives.” 

“Sure not,” said the mate. “It is more 
likely a matter of pride. He wants to baffle 
you in the race for the golden chest. He 
feels sure that it’s in his grasp now and he 
wants to have the peculiar pleasure of taunt- 
ing you over your failure.” 

“That’s a curious explanation,” remarked 
Paul, “but I guess it’s the right one.” 

At that moment, the eyes of both Job and 
Paul turned toward Jonah. The guide still 
lay motionless on the ground. 

“I hope the poor fellow’s not dead,” said 
Paul anxiously. 

“Oh, he’s not dead,” answered the mate 
cheerily. 

“How do you know?” 

“I don’t know; I just feel that way about 
it.” 

There was a rustling of dry leaves in one 
of the by-paths. The prisoners looked that 
way. 

“It sounds as if some one was coming to our 
rehef,” said Paul. 

“I hope so,” answered Singleton. “These 
ropes are beginning to cut into my flesh.” 

The rustling sounds continued. Two pairs 


198 


In the Cave 


of eyes looked eagerly in that direction. 
Presently a familiar face and form appeared. 
Paul and Job groaned with disappointment. 
It was only Alphonse, the donkey. Another 
crackhng of dry twigs and Gaston appeared. 
The two animals, after gaining the level 
ground, looked about them with what seemed 
to be human intelligence. After awhile the 
eyes of Alphonse lighted on the prostrate 
body of Jonah. He moved over toward the 
colored man. Evidently the donkey ex- 
pected some mark of recognition from the 
man. It was not forthcoming. He gave a 
bray of sorrow. The noise caused the guide 
to stir uneasily. The donkey, noting this, 
moved closer and rubbed his nostrils affec- 
tionately against Jonah’s face. The warmth 
and the heavy breath accomplished the mir- 
acle. The prostrate man opened his eyes. 
He looked about him wildly. After that, 
he rose up unsteadily, but surely. He was 
weak and sore and badly battered, but he was 
able to stand on his feet. The prisoners wit- 
nessed this performance and they broke out 
into a cheer. The sound caused Jonah to rub 
his head. The minute he did so he gave a 
howl of pain. He had two lumps on his head 
as big as goose eggs. Presently, looking 
around again, the guide saw the man and the 
boy. He rushed toward them. 


In the Cave 


199 


“ ’Scuse me for being so slow,” he ex- 
claimed. 

“You’re excused, all right,” laughed the 
mate. “If I had any medals about me, you’d 
surely get one. It begins to look as if we 
depended altogether on you and these don- 
keys.” 

The mention of the donkeys caused Jonah 
to go and take Alphonse’s head in his arms 
and murmur the most affectionate words in 
his big ears. Suddenly he remembered that 
Job and Paul were still tied. He dropped 
the animal’s head and pulhng out his clasp 
knife, rushed over and cut the hemp that held 
his two friends. They breathed a sigh of 
relief as they found themselves liberated 
once more. Like. Jonah, they felt very sore, 
but the thought of being free compensated 
for all their pains. The guide, ever useful, 
discovered a pool of clear water in the vi- 
cinity, and here they washed themselves and 
removed the mud and clotted blood that dis- 
figured their faces. Within an hour, they 
were ready to proceed. 

“See here, Jonah,” said the mate, “you’ve 
probably discovered by this time that you 
are in dangerous company. A little while 
ago you nearly lost your life — not because of 
any fault of your own, but simply because 
you are travehng with us. God only knows 


In the Cave 


SOO 

what’s ahead of us. We are going forward. 
I know we are going into danger. It may 
mean death. If you care to go back to your 
peaceful home, now is the time to go.” 

Jonah lifted his head loftily. 

“Don’t you like me?” 

“Of course I like you.” 

“Does boss number two like me?” turning 
to Paul. 

“Sure,” answered the boy. 

“All right then,” he answered. 

“What do you mean?” they cried in chorus. 

“Jonah will never leave you,” he said with 
simple dignity. 

In the course of an hour, everything was 
arranged, and once again they started for 
San Domingo. The descent down the moun- 
tain was swifter than the ascent on the other 
side. They all felt sore and out of sorts, 
but otherwise enthusiasm for their mission 
had not abated. In view of the loyalty of 
Jonah, they felt that it was only just and fair 
that he should have an inkling of the f act 
that they were in quest of a golden treasure. 
It was given to him tactfully. This knowl- 
edge threw the guide into ecstasies of delight, 
for he admitted with many shakings of his 
head that his predominant weakness was 
money. Half way down the mountain-side, 


In the Cave 


SOI 

they came to a hut where they were able to 
get milk and sandwiches for themselves and 
a bag of oats for Alphonse and Gaston. 
After that, the journey was singularly un- 
eventful. 

It was nearly dusk when they struck the 
foothills. The mate and the boy mounted 
the donkeys and whipped them in the direc- 
tion of San Domingo, Jonah following afoot. 

“Can we reach San Domingo to-night?” 
asked Paul of the guide. 

“I don’t think so,” was the reply, “but if 
you’re satisfied with a few hours’ sleep, we 
should get there the first thing in the morn- 
ing.” 

“Jonah,” interjected Singleton, “are you 
sure there is a way of getting from San Do- 
mingo to Jamaica?” 

“Positive,” was the quick response. 

“And how often do the steamers sail?” 

“They don’t have steamers just now. 
They’re running two big tugs.” 

“How often do they sail?” 

“Thursdays and Saturdays.” 

Singleton looked at his little pocket cal- 
endar. He puzzled it out with much diffi- 
culty. He spoke finally, very slowly. 

“This is Wednesday evening; at what 
hour do the steamers usually leave?” 


“At eight in the morning.” 

“Good! We ought to be able to make it 
without the shghtest difficulty.” 

At that moment, without any premonition, 
Paul broke into a series of shouts. 

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! ! !” he cried. 

“What’s the matter?” asked the mate anx- 
iously. 

“Don’t you see?” cried the hoy, “that 
Rambo has failed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Mean? Can’t you see?” 

“No; tell me.” 

“It’s simply this. Rambo has not got 
more than twelve hours start of us. Even if 
he goes right on to-night, he can’t beat us 
more than twenty- four hours. Say he ar- 
rived in San Domingo to-day. He would be 
three or four days too late for the last steamer, 
and a day too soon for the next one. In other 
words, in spite of all his rascality, we start 
even on the very eve of reaching the treasure.” 

“You’re right, Paul,” assented Singleton. 
“I never thought of that.” 

After this encouraging information, the 
three travelers jogged along in a much more 
light-hearted frame of mind. Jonah had 
used several bottles of liniment on his head 
and the soreness was gradually growing less 
painful. The shades of darkness had fallen 


In the Cave 


203 


by this time and the question was whether to 
camp for the night or press on a little farther. 
The consensus of opinion was for going ahead 
for at least two more hours. 

Just before midnight they found them- 
selves descending a narrow bridle path. It 
seemed interminable. Down, down they 
went along a shaded passageway and through 
an arch carved out of solid rock. There was 
a thick tropical vegetation all about them — 
so thick that at times it shut out all view of 
the moon which shone brightly overhead. 
Presently, the path broadened a bit and they 
came to a roadway with overhanging vines. 
These were seven or eight feet high, but at 
times the wanderers had to stoop to keep from 
striking their heads. 

“Where in the world are we?” asked the 
mate. 

A rift in the vines let in the rays of the 
moon and revealed a broad grin on Jonah’s 
face. 

“You rascal,” shouted the mate, “where 
are we? You know; tell us. No tricks on 
travelers.” 

“I know, sure enough,” smiled the guide. 
“I only wanted to see if you white men would 
be afraid of the horned bats.” 

“We fear nothing,” said Singleton reck- 
lessly; “tell us where we are.” 


204 In the Cave 

“You’re now in the natural caves of the 
island,” said the guide. 

“They’re very close to the city, and if you 
leave yourself in my care I’ll guarantee that 
you’ll be in San Domingo before seven o’clock 
in the morning.” 

“That suits us all right,” interjected Paul, 
speaking for the mate and himself. “You go 
ahead and we’ll follow.” 

They proceeded cautiously. Presently 
there was an opening in the overhanging 
branches and they found themselves in a great 
natural rocky amphitheater fully three hun- 
dred feet in diameter. Row after row of 
stone seats were to be seen, all the work of 
that most marvelous of architects — Nature. 
Above were the clear blue vaults of Heaven. 
They remained there for some time admiring 
the beauty of the scene. When they pro- 
ceeded it was through another narrow pas- 
sageway. Owls in corners, rudely disturbed, 
hooted on the night air. Sometimes their 
faces were covered with cobwebs. It was all 
very weird and very tropical. Singleton was 
in the lead. In a little while they entered an- 
other chamber. This was roofed in and the 
darkness was intense. The mate, plunging 
forward, suddenly stumbled and fell on his 
face. 

“Strike a light,” shouted Paul. 


In the Cave 


205 


Jonah obeyed instantly. He produced a 
lantern from somewhere and hurried to the as- 
sistance of the mate. Singleton took it and 
walked back to the cause of his downfall. He 
raised the lantern high in the air. There be- 
fore him on the ground were the bodies of two 
men. 

“Dead?” asked Paul, in an awed whisper. 

Jonah stooped down to investigate. He 
looked up with a shake of his head and said: 

“No, asleep.” 

Paul leaned over to see for himself. The 
moment he did so he gave a whisper of sur- 
prise. 

“Mr. Singleton, these are our two robbers; 
the two men that helped Rambo and Dutton 
to defeat us this morning.” 

Singleton coming closer, looked for him- 
self. 

“By jove, Paul,” he said, “you’re right.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WEARY TRAVELERS FINALLY REACH SAN 

DOMINGO ONLY TO MEET WITH A BITTER 

DISAPPOINTMENT 

1 1 Ihe three travelers stood in the cave look- 
ing down at the sleeping men. Paul ex- 
pressed the natural wonder of the moment. 

“What do you make of it?” 

Job Singleton took a chew of tobacco be- 
fore replying. After he had masticated the 
weed for a few seconds, he turned to the boy. 

“Why, it’s as plain as the nose on your 
face.” 

Paul involuntarily touched the tip of that 
organ and replied, laughingly: 

“That’s not so very plain.” 

The mate ignored this humor and said 
slowly : 

“It’s evident that Bill Rambo and Eli Dut- 
ton wanted to get rid of these chaps. They 
were useful in helping to get the best of us 
in the Widow’s Pass. After that they be- 
came mere excess baggage. Besides, chaps 
like Rambo and Dutton are very sensitive 


Disappointment 


20*7 


about their company. They concluded that 
it would not be good policy to have two pro- 
fessional thieves about when they recovered 
the treasure chest — ^it might interfere with 
their plans.” 

The sarcasm of the sailor caused the boy 
to laugh outright. Jonah, whose sense of 
humor was not so subtle, looked on blankly. 

“That being the case,” continued the mate, 
“what do they do? Do they fight it out like 
men? Not much, they don’t. Because why? 
Because they never fought anything out like 
men. Instead of that, they leave these stupid 
dogs asleep in the cave and go about their bus- 
iness — which I must say is pretty shady 
work!” 

“Do you think they’ve gone on to San Do- 
mingo?” asked Paul. 

“I haven’t the shadow of a doubt about it,” 
answered the mate. 

“They ought to be there by this time.” 

“I should say so. But what good will it 
do them as long as they can’t sail for Jamaica 
until to-morrow morning?” 

“Not much. Shall we go ahead or can we 
afford to rest for awhile?” 

“I think,” said the mate reflectively, “that 
after we get out of this cave, it would be a 
good plan to rest for three hours. We easily 
have that much time to spare and it will 


208 Disappointment 

freshen us up for the remainder of the 
trip.” 

So they filed out of the cave leaving the two 
men to their slumber. After proceeding for 
about three miles, they came to a pleasant 
looking spot where it was decided to strike 
camp for three hours. In order to guard 
against surprises, it was planned that each 
man should watch an hour at a time, thus 
giving each one two hours’ sleep. The ar- 
rangement worked admirably. Even the 
donkeys were rested. At midnight every- 
thing was packed up and the journey re- 
sumed. Every minute brought them nearer 
the goal. For a long time they moved along in 
silence. After an hour of unwonted activity, 
the lights of San Domingo came in view. 
Never was there a more welcome sight. At 
that critical stage of the game, Jonah put out 
a detaining hand. 

“Sh! shl” he whispered. 

“What is it?” asked the mate impatiently. 

“Come with me,” was the non-committal re- 

ply. 

Neither Job Singleton nor Paul Parker 
were in the mood to be diverted from their 
destination by the guide, but they had formed 
such a fondness for the black-skinned one 
that they permitted themselves to follow him 
against their judgment. They walked fif- 


Disappointment 


^09 


teen or twenty yards from off the main road 
until their attention was attracted by a flare 
of light. It came from a hollow, a bowl- 
shaped hole in the ground. Reaching the rim 
of the bowl and looking over it, they beheld 
a motley crowd of whites, negroes and half 
breeds surrounding two bantam roosters. Job 
Singleton instantly understood. It was a 
Dominican cock fight, — one of the institu- 
tions of the island. The spectators were 
ranged about the sides of the natural amphi- 
theater. Some stood on boxes and barrels, 
while others were elevated on the steps of lad- 
ders. A series of blazing pine knots, stuck 
in the clay, furnished the illumination for the 
entertainment. 

The three strangers became immediately 
interested in the fight. The crowd was shout- 
ing and applauding as the bleeding birds 
viciously attacked one another. The gam- 
bling instinct predominated. Most of the 
spectators, when not watching the contest, 
were making wagers on the result. The mate 
caught the contagion, and getting down on 
his hands and knees, peered anxiously down 
into the ring. Paul Parker, who was imme- 
diately behind him, said: 

“We haven’t much time to spare, Mr. Sin- 
gleton.” 

“I know that/’ was the response, “We’ll 


210 


Disappointment 


only stay here a few minutes. I believe the 
one with the red and white comb will win, 
don’t you?” 

Paul made no reply, but getting nearer to 
the mate tried to get a closer view of the con- 
test. In the meantime, Jonah was lying flat 
on his stomach, peering into the pit with 
sparkling eyes. Every now and then he gave 
a shout as either one or the other of the roos- 
ters gained a temporary advantage. For the 
time being, he was entirely oblivious of his 
surroundings. His mouth was wide open, 
displaying two rows of even, white, glistening 
teeth. He clawed the earth with his Anger 
nails, and as the excitement increased below, 
he gradually worked himself to the edge of 
the cliff overlooking the battleground. He 
shouted in his frenzy; 

“Hurrah for the speckled bird!” 

The mate and the boy looked at their guide 
in astonishment. Simultaneously they called 
out: 

“Jonah!” 

But Jonah was too much engrossed with 
the cock fight to hear the cry. So far as the 
colored man was concerned at that moment, 
Job Singleton and Paul Parker did not exist, 
while Alphonse and Gaston were part of a 
midsummer night’s dream. The roosters 


Disappointment 

were clawing wildly at each other, and the 
crowd was shrieking and applauding by turns. 
The excitement was too much for Jonah. 

“Glory ! Glory hallelu j ah !” 

At that inopportune moment, a portion of 
the earth beneath the guide gave way and he 
went tumbling down in a heap on the as- 
sembled crowd below. If the heavens had 
opened and an avenging angel had dropped 
into their midst, the spectators could not have 
been more astonished. But fright was 
quickly succeeded by indignation. They 
perceived that Jonah was one of their own 
color. Two burly negroes grabbed the guide 
by the shoulders and yanked him to his feet. 
The audience quickly formed a circle about 
the trio, shouting suggestions about the ad- 
visability of lynching and tarring and feath- 
ering the man. Jonah smiled on them all in 
a ghastly sort of way as if to say, “Be patient, 
good people, and all will be well.” The ne- 
gro who held his right shoulder was the first 
to speak. 

“What do you mean by trying to break up 
this entertainment?” 

“Deed I’m not trying to break up any en- 
tertainment,” chattered Jonah. 

“What did you jump down here for?” 

“I didn’t jump down, I fell down.” 


Disappointment 


9 , 1 % 


“Fell down?” 

“Yes indeedy. It was an accident, boss; I 
declare to goodness it was.” 

“What were you doing in this neighbor- 
hood?” 

“I’m guiding a couple of gentlemens over 
to San Domingo,” then looking up and be- 
holding Job and Paul gazing down at him, 
he pointed to them, saying, “there they are 
now, boss number one and and boss number 
two; they’ll tell you I’m all right.” 

The sight of the man and the boy gave the 
lawbreakers another fright. The two ne- 
groes involuntarily loosened their hold on the 
guide’s shoulders. A nervous man on the 
fringe of the crowd cried feebly: 

“Police!” 

Instantly there was a drawing back. Some 
of the extremely timid ones took to their 
heels and ran for dear life. The negro who 
had been plucking up his courage said: 

“Are you sure you’re not a spy?” 

“Sure, boss,” replied Jonah, his smile re- 
turning. 

“It’s all right!” cried Job Singleton, “it was 
an accident. We merely stopped to take a 
look at your fighting main. We’re on our way 
to San Domingo, and if you’ll send our guide 
up here, we’ll get away in a hurry.” 

Jonah was released instantly. The negro 


Disappointment ^13 

spokesman took off his hat as a token of 
respect to the Americans, and bade them good- 
by. Five minutes later, the little caravan 
was again headed in the direction of the city. 
As they passed away the travelers could hear 
the shouts of the crowd, proclaiming that the 
fight was once more in progress. 

Another hour brought daylight. As the 
dawn appeared, they reached the hills just 
outside of San Domingo. The elevation 
gave them a magnificent view of the har- 
bor, which, formed by the confluence of the Is- 
abella and Ozama rivers, makes a perfect 
letter Y. By the aid of his field-glasses. Job 
Singleton could see a big boat at one of the 
docks, floating the British flag. 

“The tug that goes to Jamaica!” he ejacu- 
lated. 

“Thank goodness for that,” responded 
Paul. 

“What time have you?” asked the mate a 
little later. 

“I’m six o’clock,” said the boy, consulting 
his timepiece. 

“Good! We’ll have a chance to get a snack 
to eat before going on the boat.” 

The city presented a picturesque appearance 
at that hour in the morning. Off in the dis- 
tance could be seen the red-colored roofs and 
the aged stained walls of the Franciscan inon- 


SI 4} Disappointment 

astery. A little nearer were the imposing 
heights of the old Cathedral. Paul was 
speedily interested in this edifice because he 
had learned from the guide that it was built in 
1540, and that beneath its main altar had rested 
the dust of Columbus, in the land of his dis- 
covery. 

In a little while the adventurers found them- 
selves in the very heart of the old city. Paul 
became so interested in the sight that he was in 
grave danger of forgetting all about the golden 
chest. The crowds of idle negroes hanging 
about the wharves, the red and white roofs of 
the houses, the crumbling towers on some of 
the older buildings, the clay huts covered with 
straw and thatch, the narrow streets, the curi- 
ous stores, and the balconied public houses all 
opened vistas of a new world to the boy 
from the Delaware breakwater. 

Finally they came to an old-fashioned hotel 
whose wide hallway led into a spacious 
courtyard. Jonah was sent to the stables with 
Alphonse and Gaston, while Job Singleton 
and Paul Parker selected a cool corner of the 
garden. The mate called a waiter. 

“See here,” he said, before ordering; ‘T 
want to ask you a few questions.” 

“All right, sir,” with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders. 

“I’m told there are two big tugs saihng be- 


Disappointment £15 

tween tliis port and Jamaica. Is that cor- 
rect?” 

“It is, sir.” 

“What are they called?” 

“The Starlight and the Sunlight,'^ 

“The names sound cheerful,” smiled the 
mate, “and I believe that eight o’clock is the 
hour for sailing.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Very good; now bring us some grub. 
Don’t ask me to look at that funny card. I 
don’t understand a word of it. Just bring us 
something good to eat.” 

The waiter departed with another shrug of 
the shoulders and a smile at his queer guests. 
They were served promptly and finished eat- 
ing as the clock struck seven. 

“Well,” said the mate, rising, “we’d better 
start for the boat.” 

Paul did not reply. He sat still buried in 
thought. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Singleton. 

“I’m thinking about the donkeys.” 

“By George! I forgot all about them.” 

“I didn’t,” said Paul ruefully; “they’ve 
been on my mind ever since I came in here.” 

“Why?” 

“Because Jonah says it’U be impossible to 
take ’em over in the boat. Some funny rule 
made by the steamship company.” 


SI 6 Disappointment 

“Oh, that don’t make any difference,” said 
the sailor carelessly, “we’ll soon settle that 
problem.” 

“How?” 

“Sell the donkeys.” 

Paul’s face clouded. There was just the 
suspicion of mistiness in his clear eyes. Sin- 
gleton grabbed him by the arm and whirled 
him around so he could look in his face. 

“Well, by Jinks! I do believe you’re in 
love with those two ugly donkeys.” 

“I’m not in love with ’em,” protested the 
boy, “but I’ve got to think an awful lot of 
’em, and I’ll hate to part with ’em.” 

“But the best of friends must part,” sug- 
gested the mate, argumentatively. 

“Yes, but that don’t apply to donkeys,” in- 
sisted the boy. 

“Well, this is a curious problem for a sailor 
man to settle,” murmured the mate, flopping 
into a chair with the clumsiness of a whale on 
dry land. 

“Problem?” queried Paul. 

“Yes, problem. Shall we part with the 
donkeys or shall the donkeys go with us?” 

“Will they be in the way?” 

“Very much in the way.” 

“All right,” said Paul, beginning to weaken 
a trifle, “I’ll be satisfied with any decision you 
make.” 


Disappointment 


217 


“Well, my first decision,” retorted Single- 
ton, “is that we’ll have to get a hustle on or 
we’ll miss that boat.” 

“And miss Rambo too?” 

“Surely.” 

At that moment, Jonah came running into 
the courtyard wringing his hands in anguish. 

“Oh, boss! Oh, boss!” he cried, looking al- 
ternately at Job and Paul. 

“What’s the matter?” they asked in alarm. 

“Oh,” he cried, “I wouldn’t have had it hap- 
pened for the world.” 

“What is it?” asked Job impatiently. 

“Well, you know you told me to go out to 
the stable and look after Alphonse and Gas- 
ton?” 

“Yes! Yes!” 

“Well, I went out there and, and — ” 

“And what?” 

“They’re both gone.” 

“Gone?” 

“Yes, sir; both stolen.” 

Singleton burst into a laugh. 

“Forty good dollars lost.” 

Paul repressed a desire to cry. 

“Two noble friends gone,” he murmured. 

“Poor Alphonse!” moaned Jonah. 

“Poor Gaston!” added Paul. 

And then, at a call from the mate, they hur- 
ried toward the dock. The narrow streets 


'Disappointment 


^18 

were pretty well filled with people by this 
time, and their progress was not as fast as they 
had wished. But the mate, keeping in the 
lead, spurred the others on with frequent 
words of encouragement. Finally, they 
reached the wharf. A clock in a near-by stee- 
ple struck the hour of eight. 

“Just in time,” cried Singleton breathlessly. 

The Starlight was in the dock, but, singular 
to state, there were no signs of life about the 
boat. The gangplank was not even lowered. 
Paul picked up a stick from the floor of the 
wharf and hammered on the side of the tug. 
In response, a man, wearing a cook’s cap, came 
up the companionway and walked over to the 
side of the boat. 

“What is it?” 

“When does the boat sail for Jamaica?” 
asked the boy. 

“It sailed yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” 

“Sure.” 

“When does this boat go?” 

“To-morrow.” 

“Why, I thought these boats sailed on 
Thursdays and Saturdays at eight o’clock.” 

“So they do.” 

“Well, then, your boat will sail this morn- 
ing.” 

“It won’t.” 


Disappointment 


219 


‘‘Why not?” 

“Because this is Friday.” 

Paul drew back as if he had been slapped 
in the face. Singleton retreated with him. 
Jonah followed with a lugubrious face. All 
three sat down on a log. The mate spoke. 

“Paul, I don’t know whether you kept the 
calendar or whether I did, but we’re a couple 
of land lubbers. We’re twenty-four hours 
behind time and we didn’t even know it.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


JOB AND PAUL, WITH JONAH, OBTAINING 
PASSAGE ON THE “STARLIGHT,” WITNESS AN 
EXTRAORDINARY PHENOMENON 

J OB Singleton sat with his face in his hands. 

Jonah moved about the wharf in a state 
of physical and mental perturbation. Paul 
tried to speak, hut a troublesome lump in his 
throat choked the words before they were 
born. After a few minutes he put one hand 
fondly on the mate’s shoulder, and said in a 
voice vibrant with emotion: 

“Well, my good friend, it’s all over, and 
your loyalty and labor goes for nothing.” 

The mate blew his nose vigorously. The 
next moment he recovered his self-possession. 
Presently he stood upright and he was the same 
sturdy, self-reliant sailor as of yore. He 
spoke in a cheerful, confident voice. 

“My boy, nothing is ever actually lost in 
this world, not even our feeblest effort. We 
may not know it, but every thought, word and 
deed is a ripple in the pond of life that affects 
either ourselves or some one else. Now, don’t 
m 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon SSI 

imagine for a moment that I’m trying to 
preach, because I’m not. I’m only trying to 
make you see yourself right. There’s no such 
thing as defeat except self -defeat. You may 
be knocked down, but if you’re knocked down 
good and hard, as the saying goes, you’ll 
bounce up again all the higher.” 

Paul grasped the hard hands of the honest 
old sailor and wrung them with fervor. He 
spoke feelingly: 

“Mr. Singleton, I really can’t express the 
obligation I feel toward you.” 

“Then don’t try,” was the crisp response. 

“But I will try,” persisted the boy. “You 
not only do things, but you inspire others to 
do them. From what you say, I believe there 
is still a lingering hope that we may get the 
treasure chest.” 

“I didn’t say that,” corrected Singleton. 
“I’m only reminding you of my motto, which 
is ‘Never say die.’ ” 

“But do you think Rambo will reach the 
chest first?” 

“I don’t see what’s to stop him,” was the 
truthful response. “He’s got a day’s start of 
us and he has the check and the key.” 

Jonah, who had been listening to this con- 
versation with wide-open ears, strolled away. 
Paul saw the guide engaged in earnest conver- 
sation with one of the deck hands. Presently 


22a 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon 


he came running back to them ; eyes sparkling 
and mouth in one great grin. 

“Boss number one,” he cried, indicating J ob 
Singleton, “says while there’s life there’s 
hope.” 

“I made some such remark,” smiled the 
mate. 

“Well, then. I’ll tell you that Rambo hasn’t 
got twenty-four hours start of you. He 
hasn’t got a lead of more than four hours.” 

“What do you mean? How do you know 
this?” questioned the astonished sailor. 

“It’s easy,” grinned Jonah. “I found out 
at the office.” 

“But,” shouted the mate passionately, “what 
did you find out?” 

“That the Sunlight did not sail straight for 
Jamaica.” 

“Go on! Go on!” 

“That’s all. Just before sailing time, the 
Captain got orders to go to Port au Prince to 
take on a special cargo for Kingston. She 
had to stay there all night to load up and she’s 
due to leave that port at eight o’clock this 
morning.” 

“She’s just leaving now!” cried Paul excit- 
edly, as he looked at his watch. 

Ten minutes later, while the adventurers 
still hung about the wharf, the Starlight be- 
gan to get up steam. Paul and Job were 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon 


223 


amazed, but the noise was sweet music to them. 
The mate rushed to the office of the Company. 

“What’s the meaning of that?” he said, 
pointing to the smoke that was pouring from 
the stack of the Starlight, 

“The boat’s going to sail in ten minutes.” 

“Sure?” 

“Positive.” 

The long-legged seaman could have shouted 
for sheer joy. He restrained himself long 
enough to ask: 

“But she’s not due to sail until Saturday?” 

“Very true, but the Sunlight was unexpect- 
edly diverted to Port au Prince this trip. In 
order to straighten out our schedule, we’re go- 
ing to work in extra trip by the Starlight/^ 

That was all Greek to Job, but it was satis- 
fying. He went at it again. 

“Three of us want to go to Kingston; will 
it be all right?” 

“Certainly; we’ll be glad to take you. Go 
aboard.” 

The next moment, Paul and Jonah saw the 
sedate Singleton in the center of the wharf, 
engaged in dancing the sailor’s hornpipe. 
They hurried over to him. He explained the 
situation in a few wild, disconnected words. 
Paul could have wept with delight. With Jo- 
nah, the news merely accentuated his usual 
grin. Within fifteen minutes the boat had 


An Extraordmary Phenomenon 


224 ? 

left the wharf and was headed in the direction 
of Kingston. In the middle of the channel 
the passengers beheld a long thin line of va- 
por. 

“Seems like smoke from another boat,” said 
Singleton to the Captain of the Starlight, 

“It is,” he answered; “it’s from the Sun- 
light/^ 

Paul and Job drew quick breaths. The 
boy spoke nervously: 

“It won’t get in much ahead of us?” 

“Not much,” was the reply; “not more than 
an hour or so.” 

Fate, the inexorable shaper of destinies, 
seemed to be working with them. The man 
and the boy exchanged significant glances. 

“How do we know Rambo is on the other 
boat?” suggested Singleton. 

Before Paul could reply, Jonah had an- 
swered the question. 

“Oh, boss, I made sure of that at the steam- 
boat office. I asked them and they told me 
that Bill Rambo and Eli Dutton both went off 
on that steamer.” 

“Jonah,” said Paul, thrusting forth his 
palm, “shake hands.” 

The guide did so with much gusto and with 
mock ceremony. 

“Jonah,” continued the boy, “you’re a brick; 
do you hear it, a brick?” 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon 


225 


The colored man bowed his head in acknowl- 
edgment of the compliment. The mate 
looked at him with twinkling eyes. 

‘‘Jonah,” he said, “I believe your presence 
reconciles Paul to the loss of Alphonse and 
Gaston.” 

The guide gave a roar of laughter that 
could be heard from the stem to the stern of 
the boat. After a while the mate borrowed 
the Captain’s glasses and surveyed the track- 
less expanse of water ahead of them. The 
streak of smoke still continued in the sky. 

“That’s the Sunlight all right,” he said to 
Paul, without taking the glasses from his eyes. 
“I can tell from the shape of the boat that it’s 
the sister of this tug.” 

“I suppose you can see Bill Rambo on the 
upper deck?” suggested Paul sarcastically. 

“No, I can’t,” retorted Singleton, “but I’ve 
no doubt the rascal’s there.” 

It was a beautiful day; not a cloud marred 
the sky, while the vessel moved steadily ahead 
over a motionless sea. Once they passed a lit- 
tle uninhabited island. The birds hovered over 
it, and by the aid of a telescope Paul could see 
a tiny bed of pansies just beginning to bloom. 
These signs appeared to be the harbingers of 
spring — that fruitful season when Nature 
garbs herself in new and fantastic attire. 
The boy expressed the thought to the mate, but 


226 An Extraordinary Phenomenon 

that practical person gave his head an em- 
phatic shake. 

“It’s not spring yet — too soon, my boy.” 

“But what about the pansies?” 

“Can’t explain ’em away, unless that partic- 
ular plot of ground is very warm.” 

“Still, we’re in the tropics.” 

“Very true — ^that’s probably the reason.” 

It was the reason, to an extent. But there 
was another very impressive reason, which they 
did not understand. 

In the meantime the Starlight sailed ahead 
steadily over a placid ocean. Presently the 
shores of Jamaica came in view, and immedi- 
ately Paul and his companion became inter- 
ested. They stood on the bridge of the boat, 
and the Captain, by the aid of long-distance 
field-glasses, pointed out various objects of in- 
terest. 

“There’s the jail,” he said, pointing to a 
long, narrow building on the edge of the is- 
land. 

Paul turned to Singleton. 

“Don’t that suggest some one to you?” 

“Sure; it reminds me of poor Mark Logan.” 

“Do you think he’s there?” 

“I don’t doubt it at all, and we’ll have to 
make it our business to get him out.” 

“How did he get there?” asked the Captain 
of the Starlight. 


‘An Extraordinary Phenomenon 227 

“By false swearing,” said the mate, bitterly. 
“Eli Dutton, who was the mate on the Water 
Witch, swore away Logan’s liberty. But we 
can prove it was false testimony, and we’ll have 
him released, or my name’s not Job Single- 
ton.” 

The Captain evinced no interest in this re- 
cital, and the subject was changed. The long 
ray of white smoke still preceded them by a 
considerable distance. There was now no rea- 
sonable doubt but that Bill Rambo and Eli 
Dutton would reach shore first. Paul realized 
this and so did Job, but both remained silent, 
each disliking the thought of discouraging the 
other. All this time the shores of Jamaica 
were coming closer and closer. Presently the 
harbor of Kingston came in full view. Paul 
could see it distinctly from the bridge of the 
boat — a natural landing-place — with tropical 
foliage lining the banks of the water, and a 
half dozen ships lying lazily at anchor. Be- 
yond this was the town, a wilderness of white 
roofs, open porches, thatched cottages and oys- 
ter-shell streets. 

“Is Spanishtown beyond this?” asked 
Paul. 

“Yes,” replied the Captain, “but it’s only a 
short run by the railroad. Here, if you take 
my glasses you can see the outlines of the 
town.” 


228 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon 


Paul did so. The view was magnificently 
picturesque. A great high steeple, a number 
of towers and scores of white roofs proclaimed 
a populous town. Finally, a low square 
building attracted the attention of the boy. 
It stood almost beneath the sheltering shad- 
ow of the church. 

“What do you call that. Captain?” 

The skipper looked twice before replying: 

“That’s the International Express Office.” 

Paul nearly dropped the glasses in his ex- 
citement. He gripped Job by the arm. 

“See, Mr. Singleton, see? That’s our des- 
tination. We must make for that the minute 
we reach Kingston.” 

The mate shifted his cud of tobacco easily. 

“Sure, boy, we will. Of course, it’s oc- 
curred to you that Rambo would do the same 
thing.” 

“Certainly.” 

Singleton put the glasses up again. . 

“The Sunlight's passed through the har- 
bor.” 

Paul groaned. 

“She’s reached the wharf. They’re throw- 
ing up a line to fasten to the post at the land- 
ing-place.” 

In his anger and impatience, Paul took off 
his hat, and, throwing it on the deck, stamped 
upon it. The mate looked at this outburst of 


An Extraordinary Phenomenon 


229 


rage with amazement. It was a phase of the 
boy’s nature he had never noticed before. 

“It’s all up, Mr. Singleton,” he cried, peev- 
ishly. “We might as well turn back and go 
home again.” 

The sailor thought the same, but he did not 
permit himself to say so. Instead he smiled 
in a weary sort of way and said jocularly: 

“Who knows but we may pick up a fortune 
in the streets of Kingston?” 

At that moment a most remarkable thing 
occurred. The boat stopped short for a sec- 
ond, and then shot ten or eleven feet in the air 
on the top of a gigantic wave. Such a dis- 
turbance upon a calm sea amazed them all. 
There was a queer trembling sensation upon 
the water, and this quickly communicated it- 
self to the Starlight, until the ship shook hke 
an old man with the ague. All this time the 
machinery had been going at full speed, and 
they were rushing closer and closer to the 
shore. 

Job Singleton and the Captain both had 
their glasses focused upon the city. Both 
were witnesses of the same wonder. They 
saw the island rock like a ship in a choppy sea. 
Buildings reeled and f ell, and from their wake 
came a cloud of white dust. The vibration 
was felt on the boat a second time. Once 
again it rode on the top of a great wave to a 


^30 An Haotraor dinar y Phenontenorl 

distance of over twenty feet, and then sank 
back again in the great cavity of the ocean. 
The shock threw Jonah on the deck on the flat 
of his back. He looked about him with a 
scared expression and made no attempt to 
move. Paul would have been thrown over- 
board if he had not had the wit to catch hold 
of the rail in front of the pilot house. Sin- 
gleton alone stood his ground. These sensa- 
tions all occurred within a period of half a 
minute. The moment they recovered, the 
three adventurers turned to the Captain of the 
vessel. He read the question in their eyes and 
he answered it in one short, crisp sentence : 

“Kingston’s been struck by an earthquake.” 


CHAPTER XX 


IN THE MIDST OF DESOLATION AND DESTRUC- 
TION ONE WHO WAS FORGOTTEN COMES IN 

THE GUISE OF VENGEANCE 

PJ^IVE minutes before the earthquake shock, 
Bill Rambo stood in the bow of the Sun- 
light chuckling over the cleverness with which 
he had outwitted Paul Parker and Job Single- 
ton. His beady little eyes twinkled with 
amusement as he showed Eli Dutton the cham- 
ois bag containing the check and the key 
which were to be the opening wedges to 
fortune. Dutton looked at his confederate 
with half-closed eyes as he said: 

‘Tt’s as good as in our pockets, Rambo.” 

“Sure,” was the gleeful response. “Noth- 
ing on earth can beat us now.” 

Dutton puffed away at his pipe in silence 
for a few moments. Presently he expressed 
a thought that had been in his mind for many 
days. 

“Bill!” 

Rambo did not relish the form of address. 
It implied a degree of intimacy that might 

prove troublesome in the near future. 

231 




Vengeance 


“What is it?’’ he cried, gruffly. 

“Bill,” continued the other, “when we get 
the swag, it’s to be share and share alike, ain’t 
it?” 

Bambo shifted uneasily from one foot to 
the other before answering. In his heart, he 
had long ago resolved that his should be the 
lion’s share of the money. He contemplated 
giving Dutton merely enough to shut his 
mouth. It would not do, though, to precipi- 
tate a quarrel at this critical stage of the quest. 
He looked at his second mate evasively. He 
spoke in the tones of an injured man. 

“Dutton, I’ve always treated you squarely, 
haven’t I?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“No huts about it. You know me and I 
know you. I’ll treat you on the level; you can 
rest assured of that.” 

“How much does that mean?” 

“How do I know what it means?” shouted 
Bambo, irritated into a display of his bad tem- 
per. “We can’t tell what’s in the chest until 
we get it, can we? You’re worse than an old 
woman, you are.” 

“Well,” said Dutton, “I took some chances 
to help you get here.” 

“What chances?” asked the red-faced one, 
curiously. 

“Mark Logan,” responded the other 


Vengeance S3B 

promptly. “I swore him into prison, I did, 
and you know it. He’s a bad man and if he’d 
been at large, you wouldn’t have had a ghost 
of a show for the chest.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he intended to go into a combina- 
tion with the kid and Singleton. And if he 
had, you couldn’t have beaten ’em.” 

“Maybe not,” said Rambo indulgently; 
“however, I’m willing to give you the credit of 
getting rid of Logan. He wasn’t a very 
proper person, I’ll admit that.” 

This gracious condescension pleased Dut- 
ton, and the incipient quarrel was checked. 

All this time the Sunlight was drawing 
nearer to the wharf. The machinery was shut 
down and a deck hand standing in the bow of 
the boat threw a heavy hawser to a man stand- 
ing on the wharf. He caught the clumsy 
thing and quickly fastened it to an iron sup- 
port. 

At that moment, an astonishing thing oc- 
curred. The waters arose as if by a miracle 
and tossed the Sunlight about as if it were a 
bit of cardboard. In the rebound, the boat 
struck the wood of the wharf and Rambo and 
Dutton and the others were thrown flat on 
their faces. As they regained their feet, they 
felt a curious sensation akin to seasickness. 
The city of Kingston appeared to be toppling 


Vengeance 


over. Rambo, coarse-natured and devoid of 
imagination, laughed loud at the thought, but 
before the ribaldry had died on his lips, a row 
of houses was dashed to the earth and became 
a pile of debris. The time for mirth had 
passed. The bloated red face of the braggart 
went white and he trembled like an aspen leaf. 

To add to the terror, the wharf crumbled 
like a stale cake and the crumbs dissolving, fell 
into the waters of the harbor. The Captain 
of the Sunlight, cool and self-possessed, real- 
ized that the island had been struck by an 
earthquake. The first quake would probably 
be followed by others. Immediate action was 
necessary. He turned to the terrified crew, 
who gathered about him like a flock of wet 
chickens. He pointed to a section of the 
wharf that still remained intact. 

“The gangplank! Quick, before it’s too 
late!” 

A dozen men grabbed the heavy thing and 
shoved it into position. All hands were sum- 
moned, and then, one at a time, on their 
hands and knees they crawled on to the shore. 
Danger hovered about them like a great, dark, 
mysterious figure. But the greatest peril lay 
on the boat in the harbor. The first one to 
reach shore was Bill Rambo, and he was closely 
followed by Eli Dutton. The Captain was 
the last to leave the Sunlight. 


VengeaTice 


^35 


The streets leading to the wharf were filled 
with people, white and black, all in a panic. 
There was an immense bowlder near the pier, 
and Rambo and Dutton climbed up on this 
to get a better view. It was not a second too 
soon. After the earthquake shock, the waters 
had receded from the land, but in a few mo- 
ments a series of gigantic waves rushed in 
again and swept everything before them. In 
half a second of recorded time, mountains were 
riven, the earth yawned, and thousands of 
tons of earth and rocks fell into the valley, 
burying the people beneath their dead weight. 
The bowlder on which Rambo and Dutton 
were seated shuddered for a moment and then 
split into several pieces. Most of it fell into 
the harbor, but the section on which the two 
men were seated dropped to the land side and 
they were thrown to the ground with only a 
few bruises. After that there was a rumbling 
thunder in the bowels of the earth. For a time 
it seemed beneath them, and again it appeared 
to be miles away. A strange stillness came 
over Nature. Not a leaf or bird stirred, and 
the quiet was the quiet of death. 

Rambo and Dutton hurried into the city, 
and there everything was activity. The na- 
tives were crying and praying and wringing 
their hands hysterically. Two black-robed 
Jesuits, who had been giving a mission in an 


S36 


Vengeance 


adjoining church, came out and used their 
power to calm the multitude. Men and 
women, wounded and stricken to the earth, 
begged for assistance. A score of them 
grasped the robes of the priests, and in frenzied 
tones begged for help. 

“Bless me. Father, before I die !” 

“Oh, Father, hear my confession!” 

“Please give me the last rites!” 

“Oh, for a doctor to bind my wounds!” 

In the midst of all the excitement and mis- 
ery, the ministers of God moved swiftly about 
with calm assurance, binding up a wound here 
or there, giving a cup of cold water to one, 
confessing another, and administering the final 
rites of the Church to a third. And all the 
time the people were becoming more reasona- 
ble. The voices they heard were the voices of 
authority, and the hands that touched them 
were the hands of accomplishment. 

Ramho and Dutton did not relish the sight 
of suff ering, and they were not in the mood to 
help alleviate it. So they hurried as quickly 
as possible from the crowded section of the 
city. Presently they came to a distillery, and 
here a horrible sight met their view. Over 
three hundred negroes were in the street fight- 
ing for free rum, slashing each other in the 
faces with machetes and yelling like demons. 
They had begun to sack the warehouse immedi- 


Vengeance 




ately after the first shock, and had now 
nearly completed their work. While the 
two white men stood there, the doors of 
the distillery were thrown open and a burly 
fellow came out carrying a case on his head 
containing a dozen bottles of rum. The mob 
attacked him hke madmen. The case was 
thrown to the ground and many of the bottles 
were broken. Other negroes crowded about 
barrels and sucked the whisky through straws. 
All, with few exceptions, were insanely drunk. 
To add to the horror of the scene, dead 
bodies lay about in the streets and gutters, 
with none so poor as to do them reverence. 
Rambo felt a desire to scramble for some of 
the whisky, but there was murder in that 
mob, and he wisely checked his desires and 
went his way. 

Presently their way brought them out into 
the open country. There all was desolation, 
but without the noise and confusion that ex- 
isted in the city. Rambo was anxious to know 
whether they were on the road to Spanishtown, 
and he paused at a house by the wayside to 
make inquiries. It was a frame dwelling al- 
most split into two equal parts by the earth- 
quake. The two men walked to the front 
door together, and as they reached the thresh- 
old, Dutton said suddenly: 

“You go in and inquire, Rambo. I’ll walk 


S38 


slowly along the main road where you can join 
me.” 

Ramho walked in the house, while Dutton 
went his way. No one was in the parlor. 
The floors were filled with plaster from the 
walls, while broken mirrors and pictures lit- 
tered the room. The intruder called loudly, 
hut there was no response. He walked into 
the dining-room, and there the chaos, if any- 
thing, was worse than in the parlor. But in 
one corner, apparently undisturbed, was a 
daintily set table. It was covered with a snow- 
white cloth, and on it was a bottle of 
wine and two platters containing cheese and 
crackers. Two plates and two unused nap- 
kins completed the furnishings. It was evi- 
dent that some couple was just ready to sit 
down to the table as the crash occurred. Ter- 
rorized, they had probably rushed from the 
house without further thought of their appe- 
tizing meal. The sight of food and drink 
brought Rambo to the table with a rush. He 
seated himself on the only whole chair in the 
room, and proceeded to satisfy his appetite. 
He did it calmly, deliberately, and with a rel- 
ish that was characteristic. For the next ten 
minutes he forgot all about the existence of 
Eli Dutton. 

The second mate proceeded leisurely along 
the main road. He was so engrossed in his 


Vengeance 


239 


thoughts that he gave little attention to the 
signs of destruction and desolation that were 
to be seen on, every side. He thought very 
slowly at best, and his mind just now was not 
very clear. But he meditated in a crude sort 
of way upon Bill Rambo and the treasure 
chest. He knew that the red-faced one was 
devoid of all principle, and that if he gave up 
a single penny of the booty, it would be solely 
because he was forced to do so. How to get 
his share of the money was a problem worth 
the solving. It might be well to make a posi- 
tive compact with Rambo, but then Rambo 
would break a compact with the same cheerful- 
ness with which he would smash a head. 
Suddenly an alluring temptation assailed Dut- 
ton’s mind. It came with such force that it 
made him stand still in the middle of the road. 

“Why not take the chest himself?” 

No sooner had he grasped the thought than 
he began to outline his program and to justify 
the proposition. Rambo, he reasoned, had 
no more right to the money than himself. In- 
deed, all things considered, he was the man 
who was entitled to the cash. In all of these 
calculations, Paul Parker and his widowed 
aunt were left out of consideration. Such is 
the logic of thieves. He looked back in the 
direction of the house where he had left 
Rambo, There were no signs of the gimlet- 


240 


Vengeance 


eyed Captain. The second mate guessed 
with unerring accuracy that his superior had 
found food and drink. That would mean a 
long session. Should he wait? He answered 
himself promptly. No! The next moment 
he was striding in the direction of Spanish- 
town, heart and soul and mind centered in 
the chest of gold in the old-fashioned ware- 
house. He had thought out each successive 
step of his plan. He had the cunning of his 
class and it was never keener than at this par- 
ticular moment. He was without the check 
or the key, but the island was in chaos, and 
under such conditions the ordinary systems of 
business would be brushed aside. At least he 
proposed to brush them aside. He knew 
enough about the mysterious chest to describe 
it, and he felt sure of his ability to tell a plaus- 
ible story to the custodian of the treasure. 
The fact that the express officials were in ab- 
solute ignorance of the value of the package 
in their charge was a great point in his favor. 
With confusion reigning everywhere, what 
did one trunk more or less mean to them. He 
would get it and hasten away from Jamaica 
and then retire to some quiet corner of the 
earth and enjoy the money which he had won 
after so much hard work and clever thought. 
The plan worked out so well in his mind that 
it made him positively happy. He sang 


Vengeance 


241 


blithely as he hurried along. It meant a long 
tramp to Spanishtown, hut the prize he sought 
justified the labor and fatigue. He contin- 
ued without interruption for the best part of a 
mile. At the end of this stretch, a group of 
half -naked coolies broke upon his view. A 
child who was in advance of the others rushed 
to him and cried out in frightened tones: 

“Oh, mister, something terrible’s hap- 
pened.” 

“I know it; the earthquake,” he answered 
with a superior smile. 

“Oh, no, not that; something worse.” 

“What is it?” he asked, interested now. 

“Why, the jail’s been smashed to pieces and 
all of the prisoners have escaped.” 

Without waiting to say any more, the ter- 
rified child ran on, followed by the other 
panic-stricken natives. Dutton halted for a 
moment to consider the situation. He was 
not anxious to come in contact with a mob of 
desperate men. Besides, it would cause him 
unnecessary delay and every minute counted 
now until he should reach the golden chest. 

While he was meditating, there was a 
rustling of the bushes on the side of the road, 
and a dozen stripe-suited convicts burst into 
view. Their closely cropped heads, the 
furtive eyes and the prison pallor of their 
faces did not mark them as the pleasantest 


242 


Vengeance 


company in the world. Some of them car- 
ried clubs that had been picked up by the 
wayside, while others held bricks in their 
hands prepared to resist every attempt to de- 
prive them of their unexpected liberty. 

The three or four men who were in the lead 
halted abruptly when they beheld Dutton. 
The sullen look in their eyes boded no good 
for the sailor. But if there was fear in his 
heart, he did not show it in his face. Indeed 
he adopted an almost jocular tone. 

“Boys, don’t be afraid of me. I’ve no in- 
tention of interfering with you. Go on and 
good luck to you.” 

Some of the jail birds cheered this senti- 
ment. The others remained silent. All of 
them moved quietly along the side of the road. 
Dutton breathed a sigh of relief. He con- 
gratulated himself on having averted a pos- 
sible danger. At that moment, the last con- 
vict in the line turned and gave a hasty look 
at the second mate. Some impulse caused 
him to drop out of line and come back to 
where Dutton was standing. He walked 
slowly and with his head bowed low. The 
second mate did not notice the fellow until he 
got within a few feet of him. 

He was about to speak when the convict 
hauled off and struck him a furious blow 
square in the face. It brought the blood and 


Vengeance 


243 


caused all of the evil in his heart to burst out 
in a horrible oath. But the man in the striped 
suit followed the first blow with a second in 
the same place. Dutton, frenzied and en- 
raged, struck back, but his shot fell short of 
the mark and inflicted little damage. The 
second mate, who was a powerfully built man, 
prepared for a battle. He sized his oppo- 
nent up quickly. He mentally wondered 
why the fellow should attack him and calcu- 
lated upon his chances of getting the best of 
the man. All this time the convict kept his 
head lowered. Dutton noticed for the first 
time that he had a belt around his waist, and 
that he carried a rusty knife — a sort of dirk, 
evidently picked up in the road. The con- 
vict reached for the knife and lifting his head, 
looked Dutton squarely in the face. The 
leering countenance came upon him like a bad 
dream. The second mate reeled back like a 
man afflicted with sudden weakness. 

“Mark Logan!” he gasped. 

“Aye,” responded the other, “Mark Logan 
come to pay a little debt he owes you.” 

Both were motionless for a few moments. 
When Dutton spoke again his voice was trem- 
ulous, and the spasmodic working of his fea- 
tures betrayed his terror as he gasped out: 

“I didn’t mean to do you no harm, Mark.” 

“I don’t mean to do you no harm, Eli,” 


244 ^ Vengeance 

mimicked the convict, with a horrible distor- 
tion of the face. 

“All right,’’ replied Dutton, hopeful yet 
fearful, “let’s shake hands on it.” 

“Not till I pay my debt to you,” said the 
other, with a dull look in his fishy eyes. 

“\^at do you mean? What do you 
mean?” screamed the second mate. 

“I mean to pay my debt to you,” cried the 
convict, passionately. “You’ve done enough 
harm in the world.” 

The two men were all alone on the desolate 
plain. The other convicts had gone their way. 
A gust of wind coming from the sea went 
through the hushes with a sort of moan. They 
locked in a fierce embrace. Logan tried to 
use his knife, but could not. Once again they 
wrestled, and this time the struggle ended by 
Dutton falling to the ground fiat upon his 
back. The convict, his eyes dilated with pas- 
sion and hate, raised the knife high in the air, 
but just at that psychological moment the 
sun, coming out in all its force, dazzled his 
eyes. He looked up and in the distance he 
saw a golden cross glistening in the sunshine. 
It surmounted the dome of an academy con- 
ducted by the Sisters of Mercy in the stricken 
island. It was one of the few things left un- 
shaken by the earthquake. The sight of the 
sacred emblem was at once a reminder and a 


Vengeance 


^45 


warning. Like a flash the memory of his 
misspent hfe passed before the man. The 
rage and hate died out of his heart. He gave 
a cry of horror and threw the rusty dagger far 
away. Dutton, lying on the broad of his 
back, watched the performance in amazement. 
He spoke huskily: 

“Don’t you intend to kill me?” 

Logan shook his head. The tears streamed 
from his eyes. He fell on his knees and then, 
in that desolated country, with only his en- 
emy to see him, he made a fervent, heartfelt 
act of contrition. 

Dutton arose slowly, painfully. He was 
awe-stricken. The sight of a human soul in 
its agony was a new sensation to him. For 
a long, long while he sat there in perfect 
silence. But his dull brain was working. 
When he spoke Anally it was with a certain 
awkward eloquence. 

“Logan,” he said, “I’ll never forget this, 
and if my life is spared I’m going to try and 
make reparation.” 

At that moment a squad of soldiers came in 
sight. A lieutenant, who was in command, 
saw the two sailors. 

“Come on, boys,” he shouted; “here he is, 
with another rascal for company.” 

In a trice Logan and Dutton were hound 
hand and foot. 


246 


Vengeance 


“Let ’em stay here for the present,” or- 
dered the officer, “while we skirmish about the 
neighborhood.” 

As the soldiers tramped away, Dutton 
looked over at his companion and said, with a 
new timidity: 

“I’m the cause of all your troubles.” 

Logan shook his head with a wan smile. 

“We shape our own lives. I’ve no one to 
blame but myself.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


BILL RAMBO, AFTER BEHOLDING AN UNUSUAL 
SIGHT, FINDS HIS PLANS FRUSTRATED 

"Dill Rambo, seated in the abandoned 
^ house, ate the food and drank the wine 
with a gusto that was almost piggish in its 
gluttonous manifestations. The table had 
been set for two, but accommodating himself 
to circumstances, the sailor devoured every 
vestige of the edibles and drained the bottle 
of wine to the very dregs. After finishing, 
he found an easy chair, and dropping his big 
hulk of a body into its capacious depths, he 
laid back with a grunt of satisfaction. He 
dozed for ten or fifteen minutes, awakening 
finally with a start. He remembered that 
Dutton had gone on ahead of him, and 
thought he was waiting for him further along 
the road. So he pulled out his short-stemmed 
pipe, and loading up with fine-cut tobacco, he 
lit it, and marched out of the house into the 
highway. 

No one was in sight. Dutton was evi- 
dently too far ahead to be seen. He laughed 


248 Ramho's Plans Fail 

at the thought of the feast which the second 
mate had missed. Suddenly a suspicion of 
treachery crossed his mind. Suppose Dut- 
ton would conceive the idea of stealing the 
chest himself! 

“Bah,” he sohloquized, “I’m getting to be 
a baby. He couldn’t get it if he tried. I’ve 
got the check and I’ve got the key, and 
without them the box is as safe as if it 
were locked up in the vaults of the Bank of 
England.” 

He paused by the roadside and pulled out 
the little chamois bag which held the coveted 
articles. First came the check with its num- 
ber and the caption: “International Express 
Company” cut on its brass face. Then the 
key, large, rusty and suggestive-looking. He 
carefully put them in the bag again, and tying 
it up, deposited it in his trousers pocket. 
The examination appeared to strengthen his 
confidence in his confederate. At any rate 
he walked along briskly with the air of a man 
who has important business on hand. For 
half an hour he tramped through the dev- 
astated country, and did not meet a living 
soul. Although he walked very rapidly, 
there was still no signs of Dutton. The red- 
faced one had forgotten that he spent an 
hour in satisfying his desire for meat and 
drink and sleep. He puffed at his pipe and 


Ramho^s Plans Fail 


249 


kept on his way with the dogged determina- 
tion common to seamen. 

As he rounded a curve in the road, he came 
face to face with a curious sight. A dozen 
men, more or less, dressed in shabby striped 
suits, were stealing around the hedges in 
furtive style. For the moment Rambo was 
puzzled. Afterward it dawned on him that 
the men were convicts and that they had 
broken prison. What more probable than a 
general jail delivery during the chaos caused 
by the earthquake. How should he talk and 
act? The instant the questions came into his 
head, they were answered. He plumped 
down on the ground and propping himself 
against a bit of fence, pretended to be sleep- 
ing off a debauch. The task was not at all 
difficult. The red face, the shiny pug nose, 
and the breath all contributed to a successful 
performance. The convicts came on cau- 
tiously. One in the lead beheld the sleeping 
sailor. 

“Hist!” he whispered to the others. 

They halted. The speaker crept up to 
where Rambo lay and looked at him with 
keen, searching eyes. He turned to the others 
and waved his hand. 

“It’s all right, boys, come ahead,” he called 
in subdued tones; “the fellow’s asleep.” 

They responded on tiptoe. Once away 


S50 


Rambo*s Plans Fall 


from the vicinity of the pretended sleeper 
they breathed more freely. As they hurried 
ahead, one of the prisoners exclaimed: 

“How much longer is this thing to keep 
up! I’m tired out. This suspense is awful. 
I’d sooner give myself up than be hunted 
down like a dog.” 

“It’s all right,” said the leader in concili- 
ating tones. “We’ll soon be out of our diffi- 
culty. There’s a house up the street where 
we can get a change of clothes and rid our- 
selves of these accursed stripes. After that, 
in all the confusion it will only be a question 
of time when we can make our way to perfect 
safety.” 

“Where’s number thirteen?” exclaimed 
one of the convicts suddenly. 

“Who’s that; the sailor?” came the answer- 
ing inquiry. 

“Yes.” 

“Why, he dropped off down the road.” 

“What will we do about it?” asked another. 

“Do about it,” retorted the leader, “we 
won’t do anything about it. We’ve got to go 
straight ahead. The sailorman will have to 
take care of himself.” 

And so they passed on. When they were 
entirely out of sight Rambo raised himself 
from his recumbent position and looked after 
them with a leer. 


Rambo^s Plans Fail 


251 


“Fools,” he muttered, “they don’t know 
they passed by a fortune to-day. Such 
blockheads deserve to be wearing stripes.” 

After an interval of yawning he resumed 
his journey. The road was rough and un- 
even, and he was beginning to feel footsore 
and weary. But it would never do to halt 
with a box of gold at the other end of the line. 
He must get that first and afterwards enjoy 
his ease. Thoughts of treachery on the part 
of Dutton assailed him at times, but he reso- 
lutely put these little imps of uneasiness aside. 
The big meal he had eaten, not to mention the 
bottle of wine he had consumed, gave him a 
feeling of drowsiness. He was filled with a 
consuming desire to lay down by the roadside 
and enjoy a good long sleep. But he. fought 
the desire with an energy that was unusual to 
his indolent nature. His thoughts were 
scarcely ever off the chest and its golden 
treasures. While he was musing, he was 
walking, and by persistence he managed to 
put many miles behind him. Presently he 
heard the sound of regular footsteps. Look- 
ing up, he beheld a young lieutenant and a 
squad of soldiers. 

“Halt,” came the command in strident 
tones. 

Rambo halted. The lieutenant looked at 
him keenly, and then — 


253 


Ramho^s Plans Fail 


“What are you doing here?” came the ir- 
relevant question. 

“Looking for my family,” was the lying re- 

ply- 

“Who are you?” 

Rambo halted for just a second and then 
the answer came quickly: 

“Captain James Hawkins of the Water 

Witchr 

Inwardly he thought: — 

“Hawkins and the Water Witch are both 
gone, so that’s no harm done.” 

The lieutenant looked the sailor over care- 
fully. After a brief pause, he said: 

“What are you doing here?” 

Rambo hfted up the sleeve of his coat and 
wiped a false tear from his eye before reply- 
ing. 

“I’m looking for my wife and children. 
They were at Port Antonio when this ter- 
rible earthquake occurred. I don’t know 
whether they’re dead or alive.” 

This was all said in tearful tones. Toward 
the close of his reply the rascal actually put 
his face in his hands and shook with emotion. 
The counterfeit is frequently more etfective 
than the genuine. The soldiers looked aside 
and some of them struggled with troublesome 
lumps in their throats. The lieutenant spoke 
kindly. 


Rambo's Plans Fail 


25S 


‘‘I’m sorry to have brought up such sad 
thoughts.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” cried Rambo, 
throwing in an additional snicker for good 
measure. 

“By the way,” resumed the lieutenant, “did 
you notice a party of convicts in this neigh- 
borhood?” 

“Yes! Yes!” was the hurried exclamation. 
“They passed me on the road not more than 
half an hour ago.” 

“Thank you,” responded the lieutenant. 

“Carry arms!” he called to the squad. 

They did so. 

“Forward march!” 

Rambo watched them until all he could see 
was a cloud of dust which they left in their 
wake. He resumed his own march with a 
groan of weariness. Every step seemed a 
little harder than the one that preceded it. 
Still he plodded on with a persistence that 
could not be gainsaid. In this way he man- 
aged to cover two or three more miles of the 
journey. Presently from a clear sky came 
a drenching rain. It added to his discom- 
fort, but he ignored it with stoicism. His eyes 
were half closed, and as he hurried along his 
foot struck some soft substance and he 
stumbled and almost fell. He looked down 
and there before him lay the body of a man. 


^54 


Rambo^s Plans Fail 


Rambo looked again, and he gave a shout of 
surprised recognition. 

It was Eli Dutton. 

The seaman stopped and rudely shook his 
late confederate. 

“Hey, there, old man, wake up or you’ll be 
late,” he yelled coarsely. 

But there was no response. As Rambo 
turned, his eyes fell upon another man only 
a few feet away. He went closer. He gave 
a gasp. 

It was Mark Logan. 

The man wore the garb of a convict. 

Rambo stood there for some moments con- 
templating the two men. Both were uncon- 
scious. They had probably fainted from 
weakness. A closer examination showed that 
Dutton and Logan were bound hand and foot. 
By easy stages, the story began to dawn upon 
the befuddled brain of Rambo. He could 
easily understand that Logan had escaped 
from prison and meeting Dutton, had fought 
with him. But who had tied them? Who 
was responsible for that? The soldiers! 
Like a flash the answer came to him and he 
saw the whole affair as clearly as if he had 
been present and witnessed the business. 

When he moved away he was actually 
chuckling. One by one his confederates were 
being taken off, and he was left alone to get 


Rambo*s Plans Fail 


255 


the chest of gold. The notion made him glee- 
ful. He had no sorrow for Dutton or Logan 
— not the slightest pang of grief or remorse. 
The only sensation he felt was one of joy at 
being able to grab all of the plunder. He 
got out into the main road again, and as he 
did so, he gave a parting glance at the two 
men. There they lay, side by side, with the 
unpitying rain pelting down upon their un- 
protected faces. 

Before Rambo had gotten far away from 
the sight, the rain ceased and the sun ap- 
peared. After walking rapidly for about a 
half hour, he sat down and waited for his 
clothing to dry. In that surprising climate, 
anything is possible. It dried in ten minutes 
and he was none the worse for his wetting. 
The houses of Spanishtown were now in sight 
and their white roof tops were like so many 
beckoning fingers. He plunged ahead, oc- 
casionally breaking into a run in order to 
reach his destination the sooner. 

Every detail of the place was indelibly im- 
printed upon the tablet of his imagination. 
The first landmark he looked for was the 
steepled church; after that, only a short 
distance away, the long, low, narrow white- 
washed express office. Reaching the edge of 
the town, he halted and pulled out the chamois 
bag. From it he carefully extracted the 


256 


Rambo^s Flans Fail 


brass check and the key. Pie wanted to be 
prepared so that no time should be lost in the 
delivery of the box. He held the coin and 
the key tightly in his grasp and continued on- 
ward. He reached a street finally and 
walked many blocks. The steeple was no- 
where in sight. Finally he reached a great 
pile of debris. A native was standing gazing 
mournfully at the pile of rubbish. 

‘T say, partner,” said Rambo, breaking in 
roughly on the man’s reverie, “I’m looking 
for a big church with a high steeple in this 
neighborhood. Can you tell me where to find 
it?” 

The man shook his head. 

“You won’t find it.” 

“Why not?” savagely. 

“Because,” pointing to the heap of wood 
and iron and broken timbers, “it’s all there in 
that pile.” 

“Gone?” 

“Yes; destroyed by the earthquake.” 

“But the express office! The express of- 
fice that stood near it! What about that?” 

“Gone too.” 

Rambo looked at the man wildly. He ran 
over to him, shook him by the shoulders and 
shouted shrilly: 

“Don’t you lie to me.” 


Ramho^s Plans Fail 


257 

The man looked at him impassively and 
pointed ahead. 

“Go see for yourself.” 

Almost blinded by rage and disappoint- 
ment, Rambo hurried on. How he reached 
his destination he never knew. The sight he 
gazed upon was desolating in the extrenie. 
The express office was utterly demolished. 
Not one stone of the foundation stood upon 
another. The woodwork was piled up in 
heaps mingling with sea-weed and piles of 
rocks. Many of the boards were floating 
about in the waters of the bay, and one that 
attracted Rambo’s attention had painted on 
it, “International Express Office.” It was 
the sign that had hung in front of the ware- 
house. A coolie in overalls stood by the 
wreckage. 

“Do you know anything about this place?” 

“Sure,” was the reply in soft tones. “I 
worked there all right.” 

“Have the officers given up all hope?” 

The coolie looked at the speaker as if he 
thought him demented. 

“What else could they do?” 

“I don’t know,” was the irritable response, 
“that’s why I asked you.” 

“Of course they’ve given up,” was the half- 
contemptuous reply. 


258 


Rambo’s Plans Fail 


“But the stuff?” 

“The stuff?” 

“Yes, the boxes, the hags and things that 
were stored there. Were any of them 
saved?” 

The man laughed. 

“Not a rag. The trunks and boxes have 
floated out to sea or sunk by this time.” 

Rambo’s eyes were ghttering hke tiny balls 
of fire. 

“Of course,” he said feverishly, “of course 
the Company is responsible for the value of 
the stuflP. You see,” he said, opening his 
hand and showing the coin and the key, “I 
have a check for a valuable box that was left 
here for safe keeping. This proves the own- 
ership of the chest. Of course the Company 
will be responsible for that?” 

The coolie burst out laughing. 

“When we have an earthquake down here, 
no one’s responsible ’cept the earthquake.” 

Slowly the idea penetrated the dazed brain 
of the disappointed man. His fist was 
clenched so tightly on the check and the 
key that they cut his hand. He opened his 
fingers, and with an oath that made the colored 
man shudder, threw the check out into the 
water. Curiously enough, he kept the key. 
A block or two away a sign, flapping in the 
wind, announced the survival of an inn. With 


Ramho*s Plans Fail 


^59 


his head down between his shoulders, Ramho 
headed in that direction. He felt the gall 
and wormwood of defeat. He felt it in a 
dumb, sodden sort of way. He pushed his 
way into the inn and, dropping into a chair, 
pounded loudly on the table with his fist. The 
landlord, when he came, found him in a 
stupid reverie. He tapped him on the shoul- 
der. Rambo, looking up with bloodshot 
eyes, said huskily: 

“Get me something to drink.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


PAUL AND JOB LOOK UPON THE SUNNY SIDE 
OF LIFE AND MEET WITH ASTONISHING RE- 
SULTS 

^T^welye hours after Bill Rambo had dis- 
-*■ consolately retired to the wayside inn, 
Paul Parker, Job Singleton, and the ever 
faithful Jonah arrived at Spanishtown. 
They traveled in a covered carriage which had 
been secured at Kingston. The vehicle 
was dismissed as soon as they reached the town 
and the trio proceeded on foot to the of- 
fice of the International Express Com- 
pany — the mecca of all their hopes and fears. 
They gave one glance at the pile of debris and, 
turning on their heels, walked up the street. 
Paul’s face was very white, and he gulped 
pretty hard once or twice, but otherwise his 
emotion was concealed. Job Singleton puck- 
ered up his lips and began to whistle. Jonah, 
feeling that he was called upon to do some- 
thing, executed a cake walk in the middle of 
the road. 

Thus did the adventurers accept the great- 
est defeat of their lives. 

^60 


Astonishing Results 


261 


It would be untrue to say that they were not 
disappointed, but the strenuous life they had 
been leading had broadened their natures, and 
given them a philosophical disposition that 
bred cheerfulness and hope. After a turn 
or two about the wharf, Paul and Job seated 
themselves upon a berry chest. Singleton 
looked out on the waters with strained eyes. 
Presently he turned to his companion 

“I do believe the sun’s coming out.” 

Paul arose and slapped the giant on the 
back. He smiled as he spoke. 

“Mr. Singleton, the sun’s always out for 
you. If I had your strength and your cour- 
age and your bright nature, I’d be the happi- 
est boy in the world.” 

The mate looked a bit confused at this un- 
expected tribute. He brushed the back of his 
hand across his eyes and wiped away a couple 
of tiny objects that glistened there. The next 
minute he was on his feet shouting rather 
roughly : 

“Here, we’ve got to be up and doing. We 
can’t sit about here wasting valuable time.” 

“What do you mean?” asked the astonished 
boy. “You don’t suppose there is the faint- 
est hope, do you?” 

“We’re alive, ain’t we?” cried the mate. 

“Why, yes—” 

“Well, that’s everything. If there’s a 


Astonishing Restdts 

breath of life in your body and you’ve got the 
will, there’s always a chance to make good.” 

From where they stood they could plainly 
see the desolation wrought by the earthquake 
in Spanishtown. On the roadside was a great 
house with its wide hallways and its empty 
rooms exposed to view. All that remained of 
the church was a heap of stucco work mixed 
indiscriminately with blackened boards and 
dirt and water. The pretty bridges had dis- 
appeared and the long rows of cocoanut trees, 
with their graceful overhanging branches, had 
been torn up by the roots. The work of clear- 
ing the ruins was beginning in a confused sort 
of way. Bodies of the dead were taken out 
to sea and thrown overboard. Another pile 
of corpses on land served as a funeral pyre. 
The authorities silenced the objections of 
the natives to this disposition of the dead by 
informing them that burning the bodies was 
essential to the public health. The town was 
pretty well deserted, for, after the first shock, 
there had been a mad rush of refugees toward 
the harbor of Kingston. The negroes, para- 
lyzed with fear, were not very useful. Job 
and his two companions volunteered their serv- 
ices to the officials of the town and they were 
gladly accepted. All that day they toiled ter- 
ribly. At night they slept on the ground un- 
der an awning, which, being full of holes, was 


Astonishing Results 


26B 


useless to protect them from rain. In the 
morning, after a breakfast which consisted of 
dry bread and coffee, they were thanked for 
their assistance and informed that their serv- 
ices would be no longer required. Paul told 
the city official of the valuable box which they 
had expected to find at the office of the express 
company. 

“Why don’t you get a rowboat and cruise 
about the neighborhood a bit?” asked the man. 

“I never thought of that,” was the reply. 

“Well, it’s worth while. You can’t tell 
what you may come across. There’s a row- 
boat at the foot of the landing; nearly worn 
out, but if you can use it, you’re welcome to 
it.” 

The boy broached the subject to Job Sin- 
gleton, and he welcomed the news with the 
eagerness with which a starving man might ac- 
cept a crust of bread. They examined the 
rowboat. It was unusually large, being sim- 
ilar to the kind used by life-saving crews. It 
had one pair of oars, and this led to the sug- 
gestion that Jonah be left ashore. The 
guide, however, pleaded so hard to be taken 
along that they grudgingly consented to make 
him one of the party. At the outset he proved 
his value by suggesting that a luncheon of some 
kind be taken along. A coolie in the neigh- 
borhood, acting as messenger, succeeded in 


S64 Astonishing Results 

getting them a bag of crackers, a box of 
dried beef, and a large jug of cider. As they 
were starting out, Paul thought of Bill 
Rambo. 

“I wonder what became of him?” he asked 
Singleton. 

“The Lord only knows,” replied the mate; 
“but I guess he’s been here. After seeing the 
awful ruin he’s probably got disgusted and 
gone away.” 

“Say, boy,” remarked Jonah to the coolie 
at this juncture, “did you see a stranger 
around here yesterday? A little man with 
short legs and an ugly mug?” 

The coohe paused a moment before reply- 
ing. He looked very thoughtful. Pres- 
ently he spoke: 

“Did he have a red face?” 

“Yes!” eagerly. 

“And little eyes?” 

“Yes! Yes! What about him?” 

The native pointed to the inn on the hill- 
top. 

“He’s over there. He’s asleep in the bar- 
room now.” 

Singleton turned to Paul with a significant 
look. 

“The condition of our health,” he said 
gravely, “requires us to get in this boat and 
get away from shore as soon as possible.” 


Astonishing Results 


265 


‘‘I agree with you,” responded Paul, enter- 
ing into the spirit of the thing. “I think my 
nerves need plenty of salt air.” 

“Me too!” said Jonah, without knowing 
what they were talking about. 

Ten minutes later they pulled from the 
shore and slowly made their way through 
the mass of wreckage that cluttered the 
bay. Jonah pulled on the oars, while Paul 
and Job were on the lookout. They scanned 
closely the rubbish that floated by on either 
side, in the hope of finding something resem- 
bling the chest with the golden treasure. Be- 
fore they got fairly out in the bay their vision 
was obstructed by great, dense volumes of 
smoke coming from the direction of Kings- 
ton. The city was on fire. The flames were 
finishing the destruction begun by the earth- 
quake. Articles of clothing, straw hats, logs, 
shingles from roof tops, sections of trees, pic- 
tures, whisky casks and leather bags, all ruined 
or scorched by water and fire, floated past them 
in an endless panorama. After a while a 
trunk hove in view and expectancy ran high. 
But they were soon undeceived. It was un- 
locked and empty, and bore no resemblance 
whatever to the chest that had been described 
to Paul. 

“Mr. Singleton,” said Paul, after a while, 
“this seems like a foolish quest. The chances 


m 


Astonishing Results 


are all against us. That box must be heavy 
and would sink.” 

The mate shook his head in a positive fash- 
ion. 

“Why not?” persisted the boy. 

“It’s thick wood,” said the mate, doggedly, 
“and consequently it would float.” 

“That don’t follow,” was the stubborn re- 
sponse; “anything heavier than the wood 
would naturally sink it.” 

“Wrong again,” asserted the mate. “Why, 
do you know that up at Kingston they found 
a body in a coffin floating in the water?” 

Paul shuddered. 

“I have no more to say.” 

The mate chewed his cud with satisfaction. 
He had the sea-faring man’s love of besting 
another in an argument. Jonah pulled stead- 
ily at the oars. The work was hard. Pres- 
ently the guide was in such a perspiration 
that Paul voluntarily took his place. More 
than an hour had gone by and still they had 
found no trace of the object that brought 
them so many miles from home. Shortly be- 
fore noon they rested on their oars and ate 
part of the lunch which the guide’s thought- 
fulness had provided. Disappointment did 
not affect their appetites. Job Singleton did 
especial justice to the light repast, saying he 
was as hungry as a bear, and as thirsty as a 


Astonishing Results 


267 


camel. For the next three hours they covered 
every square yard of the waters in and about 
Spanishtown, Such a display of patience had 
never been witnessed in that locality before, 
and the result was always the same. Some- 
times a soap box or a dry-goods box was over- 
taken, and once they ran into a sewing-machine 
and a Saratoga trunk, but never the chest. 
Very reluctantly the bow of the boat was 
turned in the direction of the city. 

“Paul,” said Singleton, “don’t let us give 
up without another search. Let’s make a 
final effort.” 

“How?” 

“By going in close to the shore and then 
hugging about the mainland. The tide’s just 
about turning, and a lot of rubbish is being 
swept in toward the shore. We’ve everything 
to gain. All we stand to lose is some more 
time.” 

“I’m with you,” cried the boy, who was at 
the oars. “You act as pilot, and I’ll pull to- 
ward the place you want to go.” 

They moved slowly to give the tide a chance 
to do its part. In a little while, they reached 
the muddy bars which blocked the stream be- 
low Spanishtown. It was not pleasant work, 
but it was necessary. Once the boat 
grounded, and Jonah and Singleton were 
obliged to get out and push it into navigable 


268 


Astonishing Results 


water again. Presently Paul gave an excla- 
mation of delight. 

“What is it?” asked Singleton. 

The boy hfted an oar and pointed to a small 
piece of wood floating in the water. 

“There,” he cried, “don’t you see that?” 

“I see a bit of wood,” was the stolid re- 
sponse. 

“But it’s been a sign.” 

“Well? What of that?” 

“Read it; read what it says.” 

Singleton put out a boat hook and pulled 
in the little board. The paint was pretty well 
washed off it, but he could read the words: 
“Packages checked here.” 

“Well,” he said, after he had laboriously de- 
ciphered this, “what do you make out of this in- 
nocent sign?” 

“Simply that we’re warm, as the children 
used to say at home. This sign undoubtedly 
came from the office of the International Ex- 
press Company. That being the case, some 
other stuff from that office must be pretty 
close by.” 

“By Jove, you’re right!” exclaimed Single- 
ton. 

“Of course I’m right,” smiled Paul, “but 
that don’t mean that we’re going to find the 
chest. It proves that we’re on the right track, 
though.” 


Astonishing Results 


269 


They paddled about very slowly after that, 
examining every nook and corner of the main- 
land with microscopic eagerness. Once the 
boat struck the trunk of a great tree and up- 
set the three of them into the water. While 
they were still laughing over this misadven- 
ture, Paul gave a chuckle of suppressed de- 
light. The other two glanced at the boy and 
found him looking straight ahead at a noisome 
marsh. Their glances flashed there together, 
and three pairs of eyes beheld a square cedar 
chest almost buried in the mud and partly cov- 
ered by weeds. Eagerly, and with trembling 
hands, they pulled the boat until it was beside 
the box. It required the united efforts of the 
two men and the boy to get the chest into the 
boat. They sat it on the two seats in the cen- 
ter of the craft. It weighted the boat down 
until the gunwales almost touched the water’s 
edge. They gazed at the object with a rap- 
ture that was almost idolatrous. None spoke. 
The tension was too great for speech. Sin- 
gleton was so much excited that he swallowed 
his cud of tobacco, and in the work of patting 
him on the back and giving him water to pre- 
vent him from choking to death, the others 
found their voices. 

“Glory hallelujah!” cried Jonah. 

“I’m awful glad,” said Paul weakly. 

When the mate recovered the use of his vo- 


S70 


Astonishing Results 


cal organs, he behaved like an irresponsible 
boy. He examined the box as if it were a 
stick of dynamite, touching it with the tips of 
his fingers, and paying it a reverence entirely 
out of keeping with its worldly contents. 
Presently something on the top of the chest 
attracted his attention. He reached down in 
the water, and grabbing a handful of seaweed, 
used it as a rag to clean the box. When the 
slime and dirt had been removed, they noticed 
that a series of letters were stenciled on the lid 
of the chest. Paul was the one to read them 
aloud to his companions. They said sim- 
ply: “James Hawkins, Lewes, Delaware, 
U. S. A.” 

“Mr. Singleton,” said Paul, “it seems a mir- 
acle that that heavy chest did not go to the bot- 
tom of the bay.” 

“Well,” said the sailor, scratching his head 
sagely, “it was and it wasn’t. To begin with, 
the wood in that chest must be five or six 
inches deep. Enough to fioat a battleship, 
some folks would say, although I don’t say it. 
Again, it’s evident from the bits of plaster, 
and the laths and the rubbish, that the chest 
got tangled up with a portion of the roof of 
the express office and fioated out into the bay 
in that way. When the turn in the tide came, 
it was cast up in that pile of lumber and sea- 
weed.” 


Astonishing Results 


271 


“You’re a regular mystery solver,” said 
Paul admiringly. 

“No,” replied the other with a shrug of the 
shoulders, “only a plain sailor with a little 
boss sense.” 

At any rate, the evidence of the identity of 
the box was complete. The chest for whose 
recovery they had expended so much time and 
money and effort was at last actually in their 
possession. It seemed too good to be true, but 
it was true, because there it lay between them, 
and if they had any lingering doubts they could 
be dissipated by leaning over and touching the 
precious thing with their hands. Paul Par- 
ker’s bright, youthful face glowed with 
joy. Job Singleton wore the expression of 
great satisfaction which comes to the matured 
mind. Jonah enjoyed a trance-like delight. 

“What are you thinking of, Jonah?” asked 
Paul finally. 

“Oh, something personal, boss,” he grinned. 

“Well, what was it?” insisted Paul. 

“Nothing, except I thought how nice it 
would be if Alphonse and Gaston were 
only here now.” 

Peals of laughter threatened to end the story 
of the treasure chest. They were out of the 
mud and in deep water now, and the exuber- 
ance caused by Jonah’s remark rocked the boat 
until there was danger of its capsizing. After 


272 


Astonishing Results 


it had been steadied somewhat, Singleton 
turned to Paul. 

“JNIy boy, you’re the Captain of this expe- 
dition and it’s up to you to say what we shall 
do.” 

“I think we’d better get to shore first.” 

“Right! And after that, what?” 

“After that, take the first steamer back to 
the United States again.” 

“Right again; now, Jonah, if you’ll let me 
have a turn at those oars we’ll get to shore in 
a jiffy.’’ 

As Singleton moved to take the seat occu- 
pied by Jonah, he noticed a boat coming out 
from the shore. He paused with an oar in 
each hand.” 

“I wonder who that is?” he said musingly. 

Paul shaded his eyes with his hands. 

“There are three men in the boat,” he said. 

“Where are they going?” 

“They are coming for us.” 

“What makes you think so?” 

“Why, the man in the stern pointed in this 
direction, and the two fellows with the oars 
are coming straight for our boat.” 

“I wonder,” said Singleton, still holding the 
oars idly in his hands, “whether we could have 
been seen from the shore when we pulled the 
chest in?” 


Astonishing Results 


273 


“Surely,” replied Paul, “especially from 
the hotel on the hill.” 

“Is the boat coming?” 

“Yes, rapidly.” 

“Can you see who is in it?” 

Paul was silent for awhile. He kept his 
eyes glued on the outcoming boat. Presently 
he gave a shout — half anger and half annoy- 
ance. 

“What is it?” asked Singleton. 

“It’s Bill Rambo; he’s in the bow of the 
boat.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Two chaps are with him.” 

“It looks like trouble,” said the mate. 

Paul shut his teeth grimly. 

“I suppose that means a fight; a fight to a 
finish.” 

Singleton shook his head. 

“We can’t afford to fight now.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the chances are ninety-nine to a 
hundred that you’d lose the treasure — either 
to Rambo or the bottom of the bay.” 

“Right you are, but what remains?” 
“Flight!” 

“What? Flight out to sea?” 

“Not much.” 

“What then?” 


274 


Astonishing Results 


“We must skirt the island and make for 
Kingston. That’s a crowded city. I’m will- 
ing to take my chances with Rambo there.” 

“It’s an all-night job,” muttered Paul, “but 
we’ve got to do it.” 

And the rowboat, freighted down with its 
valuable cargo, made for the deeper water of 
the channel, with Bill Rambo and his murder- 
ous crew in hot pursuit. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


PAUL AND JOB, GOING OUT TO SEA, COME 
WITHIN HAILING DISTANCE OF DAVY JONES’ 
LOCKER 

T T was an unequal race. Paul and Job alter- 
nately relieved Jonah at the oars, but even 
with that the pursuers were slowly but surely 
gaining. It was almost dusk when the con- 
test began, and in a very little while a heavy 
mist came over the waters, but the outline of 
the other boat, with the two rowers bending 
steadily over the oars, could be seen. The sea 
was choppy, and the tide still coming in, and 
that made the task all the more difficult, but 
Paul and his companions never lost heart for 
an instant. Indeed, there were times when 
they were tempted to stop and fight it out with 
their rascally opponents, but always the 
thought of the treasure impelled them for- 
ward. After awhile the heavy voice of Bill 
Rambo came booming across the waters like a 
fog horn: 

“Halt, or I’ll shoot 1” 

Singleton, who knew that the winds and the 

275 


S76 Near Davy Jones* LocTcer. 

waves were both opposed to pistol practice, 
answered cheerily; 

“Shoot and be hanged.” 

Rambo pulled the trigger of his revolver, 
but all to no avail. The shot fell short of the 
target by many yards, and dropped, hissing, 
into the salt water. It was a warning, though, 
that was not without its effect. Job turned to 
Paul and said gravely: 

‘TVe been watching those fellows. Every 
five minutes they gain on us by two or three 
boat lengths. If this keeps on, it will only be 
a question of time before we’re captured.” 

Paul, who was pulling on the oars, only 
nodded. The mate was silent for some mo- 
ments. After that he turned to the boy again. 

“Let me take a turn at the oars; maybe I 
can make up for lost time.” 

Paul surrendered his seat and the giant took 
his place. He grasped the oars as if they 
were made of straw instead of heavy timber. 
The first pull shot the boat bounding ahead 
like a cork over the choppy waters. Every 
bit of wood in the frail craft creaked and 
groaned at the unwonted strain. The mate 
rolled up his sleeves and the veins in his arms 
stood out stiff and rigid. The boat appeared 
to yield to one who was its master. Involun- 
tarily Paul and Jonah broke into a cheer. 


^ear Davy Jones'* LocTcer ^77 

Singleton paused to wipe the gathering sweat 
from his brow and said smilingly: 

“Don’t cheer so soon; we’re not out of dan- 
ger yet.” 

He leaned over and gave a fresh pull, and at 
that moment there came the sound of creaking 
wood, and his left oar broke into two parts, 
and the lower half went flying away on the 
crest of a high wave. The mate, always calm 
in the face of danger, went white. Paul 
groaned. Jonah looked on in dumb despair. 
Involuntarily, each one looked behind to dis- 
cover the location of the enemy. All they 
could see was great banks of gray fog. Sin- 
gleton pulled out his big silver watch and 
peered at its open face. He smiled in a mel- 
ancholy sort of way. 

“Boys,” he said, “we’re out of danger and 
in it at the same time.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Paul. 

“I mean that it’s night.” 

“Night?” 

“Yes; after you’ve been in the tropics 
awhile, you will discover that night comes very 
quickly. Dusk is scarcely known here. 
Night has arrived and we’re safe from the at- 
tacks of that murderous Rambo until morn- 
ing.” 

“Good! Good!” cried Paul, greatly elated. 


278 Near Davy Jones' Locker 

“Yes,” said Singleton, “but the other part 
is not so good.” 

“The other part?” 

“Yes, the other part; you probably realize 
that we are adrift on this great stretch of wa- 
ter without a rudder or a compass and with 
only one oar. God only knows how it will 
end. One thing sure, we’ll float around with- 
out any purpose.” 

“There’s no help for it?” remarked Paul in- 
terrogatively. 

“No,” shaking his head, “there’s no help for 
it. All that we can do is to wait for day- 
light.” 

Paul turned to the guide with the ghost of a 
smile on his face. 

“What are you thinldng of, Jonah?” 

“I don’t like to tell you.” 

“Oh, but you must. What is it?” 

“Well, boss, I’m thinking that I’m mighty 
hungry.” 

The pathos that he put into this remark 
made the man and the boy laugh, and that 
helped to relieve the strain of the situation. 
By a unanimous vote it was decided to eat 
supper. Jonah, whose foresight was becom- 
ing a by-word, had provided an old lantern. 
This was lighted and placed in the bottom of 
the boat, where the flickering glow enabled 
them to find the food without furnishing a sig- 


Near Davy Jones* Locker 


^79 


nal for the enemy. Paul and Job never real- 
ized before the refreshing taste of sweet cider, 
or the satisfying qualities of dried beef and 
crackers. The top of the cedar chest served 
as a table, while two rusty tin cups took the 
place of wine glasses. 

After the meal, the mate pulled out his to- 
bacco pouch, and filling the short-stemmed 
pipe, took his after-dinner smoke with all 
of the contentment of a millionaire. He was 
silent during the performance, but Paul 
knew very well that he was considering their 
situation. He puffed away for ten minutes, 
and then emptied his pipe, knocking the ashes 
out on the side of the boat and cleaning the 
stem with a bit of straw. He tucked it away 
carefully, as one would a bit of valuable prop- 
erty. These ceremonies finished, he turned to 
his companions. 

“Well, boys, this night will be nine hours 
long, and I’m going to divide the crew up into 
watches of three hours each.” 

Just then his foot splashed into a pool of 
water in the bottom of the boat. He turned 
to Jonah reprovingly. 

“You ought to bail that out.” 

The colored man seized one of the tin cups 
and got to work at once. While the other two 
talked, he continued at his labors uninterrupt- 
edly. 


280 


Near Davif Jones* Looker 


Presently he looked up at Singleton. 

“ ’Taint no use, boss.” 

“Why not?” sternly. 

“ ’Cause this boat’s gone and sprung a leak. 
As fast as I dish it out it comes in again.” 

A hurried examination demonstrated the 
truth of the assertion. The boat was leak- 
ing badly. This added new terror to their 
painful situation. At the mate’s request the 
colored man kept dipping the water out. Sin- 
gleton found the largest leak near the stern of 
the boat, and, whittling a bit of wood with his 
jack-knife, he caulked up the greater part of 
the cavity. This relieved them from immedi- 
ate danger, and assured them that with con- 
stant care the craft could be kept afloat for 
many days. The water still oozed in the 
joints of the bottom of the boat, however, and 
it made it uncomfortable, if not dangerous. 
The discovery of the leak completely upset all 
the plans for a three-hour watch. It would 
not do for any of them to go to sleep on an un- 
seaworthy boat. At least Paul thought so, but 
he was finally overruled by the older man, who 
decided that it would be perfectly safe for two 
of them to remain on watch while the third one 
slept. This made the watches longer than had 
originally been anticipated, but enabled each 
of them to get some sleep. So the night 
passed away — a long, dreary, lonesome night. 


Near Davy Jones^ Locher 


S81 


the memory of which remained impressed on 
their minds for years afterward. 

Morning came at last. The darkness un- 
furled like a curtain that was slowly hfted to 
reveal the beauty of the dawn. The two men 
and the boy were wide awake, and they looked 
about them with distended eyes. A rush of 
delight came with the discovery that Rambo 
and his confederates were nowhere to he seen. 
Not a boat of any kind, save their own, was in 
sight. Indeed, as far as they could see, there 
was an unbroken stretch of smooth sea. Sin- 
gleton, shading his eyes with his hands, looked 
for the shores of Spanishtown, but he could 
see nothing except a dim blur on the distant 
horizon. A painful thought flashed across his 
mind. He made it known to Paul. 

“We’ve drifted out to sea!” 

The boy looked up, his face fllled with 
alarm. He tried to banish fear from his 
mind. His voice was cool almost to indif- 
ference. 

“Well, what of that?” 

Singleton laughed in a mirthless sort of 
fashion. 

“Oh, nothing; I just thought I’d mention 
it.” 

Neither deceived the other. Both appreci- 
ated the gravity of the case. Jonah, uncon- 
scious of what was passing in the minds of his 


^ 8 ^ Near Davy Jones* Locker 

two friends, coolly went ahead with prepara- 
tions for breakfast. Biscuits, dried beef and 
cider were placed before them, but in very 
small quantities. They disposed of this 
quickly! and then turned to the business of 
the day. The business of the day? It 
sounded like a mockery. Their only business 
was to sit there drifting about idly, first in one 
direction and then in another; hoping, pray- 
ing, that they might be picked up by some 
passing steamer. 

The minutes and the hours melted into ob- 
livion, and still they drifted. Singleton 
smoked a half dozen pipes and had very little 
to say. He could offer no encouragement, 
and he preferred to remain silent. Every now 
and then Job and Paul looked at the cedar 
chest which lay between them, and which, after 
all, was the cause of all their troubles. A 
feeling of dislike for the thing began to creep 
over them. This grew and grew until the in- 
animate chest seemed to be some horrible mon- 
ster which threatened their happiness and their 
lives. Once a desire to hurl the chest over- 
board seized Paul. He cast the feeling from 
him as one would set aside a wicked tempta- 
tion. He bathed his face in salt water, he 
pinched himself and sat upright — anything to 
be his old rational self again. Singleton real- 
ized the struggle that was going on within 


Near Davy Jones^ Locker 


28 S 


the boy, and he sympathized with him. He 
had been adrift in an open boat before and he 
knew what it meant. He shuddered at the 
thought of what might happen. He felt that 
he must do something to keep their minds oif 
their situation. He looked at his watch and 
turned to Jonah. 

“Isn’t it about time we had dinner?” 

The colored man shook his head gloomily. 

“Why not?” demanded Singleton, thought- 
lessly. 

“Cause we haven’t got nothing to have din- 
ner with.” 

It was a blow from an unexpected quarter. 
The mate felt his impotence. He reproached 
himself for his stupidity. He might have 
known that the scant supply of food would be 
exhausted by tliis time. Yet by his foolish 
question he had exposed their helplessness to 
Paul Parker. He made a pretense of laugh- 
ing, but his laugh was too transparent to de- 
ceive any one. 

The boat floated idly on the waves. Paul, 
sitting in the stern, tried to fix his mind on 
pleasant thoughts, but it was no use. The des- 
peration of their situation loomed up before 
him like some ugly specter. His tongue was 
parched and his lips blistered. He was begin- 
ning to feel the agony of thirst — ^the most 
dreadful thing in human suffering. The oth- 


' 284 ! Near Davy Jones* Locker 

ers were similarly afflicted. It was only at 
rare intervals that any of them spoke, and 
then it was in monosyllables. As the day 
came near its close the air became raw and 
chilly. Paul’s head ached dreadfully and he 
wondered in a numb sort of way whether he 
would ever see his home again. Job Single- 
ton was the most alert person in the party, and 
his glance was fixed anxiously on the bay. 
His eyes scanned the horizon for a vessel of 
some kind. He hoped for the best, but feared 
the worst. The situation was rapidly be- 
coming unendurable. Hunger, thirst and 
cold? What next? Would it be cannibal- 
ism? 

At the moment of utter hopelessness, Paul 
noticed a rippling of the waters. The mate 
lifted his eyes, and there in the distance was a 
rowboat rapidly drawing toward them. It 
needed no second glance to show that Bill 
Rambo and his two thieves were in the craft, 
and that they were still after the golden chest. 
The mere sight of the attacking party put new 
life and hope in the hearts of the shipwrecked 
ones. Anything was preferable to this awful 
inactivity. Jonah voiced the feeling of the 
two white men when he stood up in the boat 
and shook his ebony fist in the direction of the 
newcomers. Waving his arms in the direction 


Near Davy Jones^ Locker ^85 

of the oncoming boat, he screamed at the top 
of his voice, 

“Come on, you scoundrels! We’re ready 
for you.” 

“Yes,” muttered Paul, “we’ll fight it out 
now as we should have fought it out in the be- 
ginning.” 

Singleton only smiled in a gloomy sort of 
way, but he, more than either of his compan- 
ions, was eager and anxious for the fray. The 
privations they had undergone were begin- 
ning to make them light-headed. He was still 
able to reason out the why and wherefore of 
things. For instance, he realized that Rambo 
and his companions in their pursuit of the 
treasure, had, like themselves, unintentionally 
floated out to sea. They had oars, it was true, 
but they were minus rudder or compass, and 
probably without food or water. It was rea- 
sonable to suppose that they were weakened 
by the loss of these great necessities. There 
were three men in each boat. The odds were 
even. If there was any difference, it was that 
their own boat was overweighted by the treas- 
ure chest. The thought of the golden cargo 
started the mate into immediate activity. 

“A rope, Jonah,” he said. 

The negro obeyed him in a dazed sort of 
way. Singleton took the rope and tied it 


S86 Near Davy Jones^ Locher 

carefully about the chest. Then he fastened 
the other end of the hemp about the stern of 
the heavy boat. 

‘Tf anything happens to us,” he said sig- 
nificantly, “this will keep the chest from sink- 
ing and the boat will serve as a life saver for 
the treasure.” 

“If anything happens to us,” repeated 
Paul in melancholy tones, “I’d just as leave 
see the treasure go to the bottom of the sea.” 

“I don’t agree with you,” retorted the mate. 
“However,” he added blithely, “I don’t pro- 
pose that anything shall happen to us.” 

In the meantime the boats were coming 
closer to one another. Rambo stood up in his 
craft while the two thieves rowed with a vigor 
worthy of a better cause. As they came 
within haihng distance, the red-faced one 
pulled out a pistol, and pointing it at Single- 
ton, fired. The bullet whizzed over the 
waters with a sound resembling the swish of a 
silk dress, but it went foul of its mark. It 
went over the mate’s left shoulder and sank 
deep in the side of the treasure chest. Rambo 
pulled the trigger again, but this time the boat 
lurched, his aim was spoiled and the hot lead 
went down into the cold waters. 

By this time the boats were almost astern 
of one another. Jonah was crouching in the 
bow of Singleton’s boat with the end of the 


287 


Near Davy Jones' Locker 

broken oar in his two hands. Suddenly he 
arose with the quickness of a shot arrow. 
The boats were almost side by side. Jonah 
raised his powerful weapon and brought it 
down on Rambo’s arm with a terrible crash. 
The fellow gave a scream of agony, and 
moved back in his boat. The shock upset the 
frail craft and all three went down into the 
turbulent waters. Rambo was the first to re- 
appear and he grasped the stern of the over- 
turned boat with his two stubby hands, and 
held on grimly. The other two came to the 
surface a moment after but their heads col- 
lided with a crash and they sank for the sec- 
ond and last time. 

In the meantime, Jonah in stepping back- 
wards upset Singleton’s boat. His party was 
better prepared for the catastrophe than their 
adversaries. It was a deep boat and it was 
turned bottom end up. The treasure chest 
went overboard, but partly floated and was 
held in place by the rope placed about it by 
Singleton’s foresightedness. Paul grabbed 
hold of this and managed to keep his head 
above water. The mate and Jonah clung to 
the bottom of their overturned craft. They 
were helpless, yet in no immediate danger. 
Rambo, holding on to his frail support, 
floated in the water less than a dozen yards 
away from them. Each could see the other 


S88 


Near Davy Jones^ LocJcer 


plainly, yet all were too weak for recrimina- 
tions. Singleton, the ever hopeful one, man- 
aged to murmur: 

“Now if a steamer came along and picked 
us up, it would be all right.’’ 

Paul smiled back at him in a ghastly sort of 
way. The boy wondered vaguely how long 
he could hold on. His fingers were becoming 
numb with the cold. His strength was rap- 
idly oozing away. He tried to answer the 
mate and failed. A moment later the world 
became a blank to him. He had lost con- 
sciousness. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE ADVENTURERS, AFTER BEING PICKED UP 
BY A GOVERNMENT VESSEL, FALL IN WITH 
SOME OLD FRIENDS 

"l^^HEN Paul Parker recovered conscious- 
^ ^ ness, he found himself lying in a berth 
in a well-appointed stateroom. He was evi- 
dently aboard a craft of some distinction. 
His pillow and counterpane were as white as 
snow. Indeed, every inch of the space about 
him exhaled an atmosphere of wholesome 
cleanliness. The boy had found nothing to 
compare with it since the eventful morning he 
left his home in the United States. His first 
sensation was one of wonder. He had a dim 
recollection of hanging on the edge of eternity 
with numbed fingers. After that, darkness, 
and now, warmth and comfort. He felt hke 
the beggar, who being hungry and homeless 
at night, awakes in the morning to find himself 
in bed in the luxurious apartments of the 
King. 

It was daylight, and the sun was streaming 
through the port hole on the side of the state- 

289 


Saved 


S9a 

room. A flood of light came also from the 
skylight over the room. It served to empha- 
size the spotless whiteness of the painted wood- 
work and the flawlessness of the polished 
metal. Paul sat up in his berth, and found 
that, but for a slight stiffness, he was in good 
condition. He glanced about the room and 
noticed a circular life preserver hanging on 
the wall. It had stenciled on it, 17. S, R. C, 
Albatross. The door opened and Job Single- 
ton came hustling in. 

“Hello, youngster; got your eyes open, 
have you?” 

“Yes!” said Paul wonderingly. “Now will 
you please explain?” 

“Not much to explain except that we were 
picked up last night. This revenue cutter 
has been on a special mission to San Domingo, 
and was starting on her return trip when one 
of the officers sees us bobbing up and down in 
the water like corks and has a boat lowered 
and pulls us all in.” 

Paul was silent and gi'ateful. Presently he 
spoke eagerly. 

“Do I understand that all were saved?” 

“Yes, all.” 

“Including Rambo?” 

“Yes,” said the mate as if the admission did 
not please him, “including Rambo.” 

The man and the boy thought of the drown- 


Saved 


291 


ing of the two thieves who were with the red- 
faced one, and Singleton voiced the feeling of 
both when he muttered : 

“He has more lives than a cat.” 

At this juncture the door was pushed open 
and a woolly head inserted itself in the state- 
room. Paul recognized it immediately. 

“Come in, Jonah!” he shouted. 

Jonah came in, twirling his hat in his hands 
and expressing great joy at seeing “boss num- 
ber two” able to sit up and take nourishment. 
At that remark Paul jumped out of his berth 
and began dressing. The mate laughed. 

“You were not so spry as that last night. 
We thought we were going to lose you. You 
were senseless so long the doctor didn’t know 
what to make of it ; but he pulled you through 
all right, and afterward it became a case of 
exhaustion which merely required plenty of 
sleep and nourishment. You’ve had the 
sleep, now we’ll try and get the nourishment.” 

“Was the chest saved?” interrupted Paul. 

“Yes.” 

“Where is it?” 

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see 
the mate. One thing sure, it can’t get away 
from us on this boat.” 

Paul smiled in an absent sort of way. 

“I never feel safe when Bill Rambo is 
about,” he said. 


^92 


Saved 


A great noise was heard proceeding from 
the forecastle. Jonah noticed it and went 
away to ascertain the cause. He returned in 
a few minutes, eyes sparkling, breath coming 
in quick gasps. He took Paul by one hand 
and Job by the other. They stood still. He 
looked up pleadingly. 

“Come with me; please come with me.” 

“Why?” asked the mate. 

“Don’t ask why. I have great news. 
Come.” 

It was impossible to resist this appeal. 
They followed him out of the room and on to 
the deck. From there they proceeded to the 
forecastle, and climbing down a ladder, found 
themselves in a dimly lighted apartment. A 
number of sailors were lolling about in an 
attitude of expectancy. Jonah marched 
them through to another compartment. The 
sound of the mooing of a cow caught their 
ears. 

“I suppose we’re going to look at the cat- 
tle,” smiled Singleton. 

The moment they entered the second en- 
closure they were greeted by an awful bray- 
ing. Jonah pointed theatrically to a corner 
stall. There quietly munching a bundle of 
hay, stood Alphonse and Gaston. 

Paul rushed over to them and gave each 
donkey a hearty hug. 


Saved 


29 S 


‘‘Be sure you’re right, Paul,” said the mate 
mischievously. 

The boy did not reply. He was too happy 
for words. Besides, who could be deceived 
in such a case! No other donkeys could have 
such wonderful long ears; no other donkeys 
could have such shaggy hair ; no other donkeys 
could have such mournful eyes; no other don- 
keys could have such an unearthly bray. 
They were indeed, without doubt, Alphonse 
and Gaston. The sailors of the Albatross 
had been having sport with the two Dominican 
animals. Each of them was arrayed in a 
sun-bonnet and an apron, and they were en- 
gaged in munching hay off two big tin plates 
on a heavy oaken table. 

Mr. Wadsworth, the mate of the Albatross , 
entered the forecastle in time to see Paul 
Parker with his hands about the donkeys’ 
necks. 

“Old friends?” he asked inquiringly. 

“We are,” responded Paul, and he told the 
story of how they had purchased the donkeys 
in San Domingo and how they had become at- 
tached to them. 

The mate listened intently, and at the con- 
clusion of Paul’s recital he said: 

“Our men found the donkeys wandering 
about the woods just before we left Monte 
Cristo. I don’t believe they were stolen. 


Saved 


It’s my belief that they wandered out of the 
stable in San Domingo and then deliberately 
retraced their way back to their former home 
at the other end of the island.” 

Paul was willing to accept this theory. He 
said so, and added: 

“Now, Mr. Wadsworth, you’d do us a very 
great favor if you’d let us buy those donkeys 
to take home with us.” 

“Buy them, not much,” was the indignant 
response. 

“You won’t part with them, then?” asked 
the boy, with a sinking heart. 

“We’ll part with ’em all right,” replied the 
mate, “but not for money. You bought 
them once and paid for them. They belong 
to you. You can have ’em as a gift.” 

He turned to the sailors. 

“At least that’s my view. It’s up to the 
boys to say, though. What do you say? 
Does he get his donkeys?” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” cried the seamen in hearty 
chorus, and to show their further good will, 
they gave three cheers for Paul and three 
cheers more for Alphonse and Gaston. 

From the forecastle they proceeded to the 
quarter-deck, which like every other part 
of the vessel was as spick and span as a new 
pin. 

“Mr. Wadsworth,” said Singleton to the 


Saved 


295 


officer, ‘‘I have just learned that Paul and I 
are using your room. I want to thank you 
most heartily for your hospitality and to say 
we are prepared to bunk with the men as soon 
as you can find us a place.” 

“You won’t do anything of the kind,” re- 
sponded the big-hearted sailor. “You were 
in distress and we took you in. You’re my 
guests until we reach port.” 

Singleton thanked him and asked him to 
which port they were bound. 

“Wilmington,” was the reply. 

Paul brightened at this information. 

“That’s close to our home,” he said. “Our 
rescue by your ship seems providential.” 

“I don’t doubt,” said the mate dryly, “that 
any rescue from drowning is providential.” 

“Where did you put Rambo?” asked Sin- 
gleton abruptly. 

“Oh, the red-faced fellow — he’s in the sec- 
ond mate’s room. By the by, he don’t seem 
as grateful as you two. He hasn’t a very 
lovable disposition.” 

Paul and Job had the same thought. Sin- 
gleton was the one to express it. 

“Mr. Wadsworth,” he said, “we had a cedar 
chest. I believe it was saved. I wasn’t in a 
very good condition for observing anything 
when you pulled me aboard, but I have a hazy 
notion that you got the box.” 




Saved 


“Oh, yes,” was the cheerful response, “we 
got the box all right.” 

“Might I inquire what you did with it?” 

“Sure; it’s down in the storeroom. What 
do you want done with it?” 

“We’d like to put it in our stateroom if 
you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all. Here there, Joe,” he called to 
a passing seaman, “you and Pete go down and 
get that cedar chest in the storeroom. Bring 
it up here.” 

They obeyed with alacrity, and five minutes 
later the precious box was on the deck in front 
of them. It looked weather-beaten, but the 
stenciled name was still there and the chest 
was intact. 

“I might have had it put in your room right 
away,” said the mate apologetically, “but I 
was waiting to see the Captain — ” 

“What Captain?” interrupted the alert 
Singleton. 

“Captain Horner, the commander of this 
ship,” replied the other. “You see, he was 
sound asleep when we rescued your party. 
He was off duty at the time and the job was 
so easy that I didn’t even disturb him. I told 
him all about it this morning though, and he’s 
very anxious to meet you.” 

At the mention of the Captain’s name. Job 
Singleton gave a start of surprise. 


Saved ^9lf, 

“I shall be glad to meet Captain Horner at 
any time,” he said significantly. 

“In the meantime,” resumed the mate, “we 
might as well dispose of this box. Boys,” he 
called to the two sailors, “take this chest to 
Mr. Singleton’s room.” 

“Mr. Singleton’s room?” they asked in 
chorus. 

“Yes — ^that is to say, to my room. It’s the 
same thing.” 

The men lifted the box and started away. 
They had not gone more than three steps 
when a deep voice called out: 

“Stop!” 

Involuntarily they halted and laid the bur- 
den on the deck. All hands looked in the di- 
rection of the unexpected voice. It did not 
require a second glance to identify the man. 
It was Bill Rambo with flushed face and di- 
sheveled manner. He strode up to the group 
in an insolent, swaggering way. He pointed 
to the box and addressed himself to Mr. 
Wadsworth. 

“What do those men intend to do with that 
chest?” 

“They’re taking it to Mr. Singleton’s 
room.” 

Rambo burst out into a coarse laugh. Af- 
ter that he winked in a knowing way and said 
slowly, with a pause between each word : 


298 


Saved 


“I don’t think they will do anything of the 
kind.” 

“Why not?” asked the astonished mate. 

“Because,” was the calm rejoinder^ “the 
chest belongs to me.” 

The effrontery of the man robbed Paul of 
his self-possession completely. He ran over 
to the mate of the Albatross, 

“It’s a lie, Mr. Wadsworth! It’s a lie! 
The chest don’t belong to him, and what’s 
more, he’s trying to steal it from me!” 

“Is it yours?” asked the officer. 

“No,” replied Paul, “but I represent the 
rightful owner.” 

Rambo screwed up his mouth in an ugly 
sneer. 

“I don’t suppose Mr. Wadsworth is going 
to pay any attention to a hysterical boy.” 

Paul sprang toward the red-faced one, but 
Job Singleton held him back. 

“Keep cool, my boy! Keep cool. You 
never gain anything by losing your head.” 

In the meantime the mate looked from one to 
another in a state of perfect perplexity. His 
eye finally lighted on the benign countenance 
of Job Singleton. He turned to him in a 
courteous manner. 

“Have you anything to say?” 

“Nothing except that the boy speaks the 
truth.” 


Saved 


299 


“There is a conspiracy to try and cheat me,” 
was Rambo’s unblushing comment. 

“Do you hear that?” asked Mr. Wads- 
worth. 

“Only too well,” replied Singleton, “but I 
repeat that the chest belongs to this boy. If 
you had the time and the inclination I could 
tell you the whole story.” 

“Make him prove his claim to the prop- 
erty!” bawled Rambo. 

“Have you any proof?” asked the mate 
gently. 

Singleton shook his head sadly — 

“Not a scrap of proof.” 

“I knew it! I knew it!” cried Rambo ex- 
ultingly, “and now I’ll tell you something 
more. They’ve no proof and I have.” 

“What is it?” 

The impostor put his hand in his pocket 
and pulled out a bit of worn paper. He held 
it up in the air. 

“Here’s a letter from Captain Hawkins — 
a letter of authority which put me in com- 
mand of the Water Witch and entitles me to 
the chest.” 

“That’s mine,” interjected Paul Parker. 

The officer looked puzzled. He did not 
know what to do. At that moment. Captain 
Horner, the Commander of the vessel, came 
in view. He was a big, hearty, bluff sailor- 


300 


Saved 


man, and before he reached the group, he 
called out : 

“What’s all the trouble here, anyhow?” 

Before any one had time to reply, he came 
up to the party. His eye lighted on the tall 
spare figure of Job Singleton. He looked 
at him again. He hesitated the fraction of a 
second and then rushed over and put his 
brawny arms about the modest-looking fel- 
low. 

“Job Singleton, as I’m a living man! 
Why, Job, old fellow, how have you been?” 

“Jack! Jack Horner!” cried the other, re- 
turning the embrace. 

Finally the hugging match ceased, and the 
Captain of the Albatross held his friend at 
arm’s length, and surveyed him with admiring 
eyes. 

“So the Albatross pulled Job Singleton out 
of a watery grave. Well, I never thought 
that I’d ever be of any service to you.” 

“Friends?” interrupted the mate respect- 
fully. 

“Friends?” repeated the Captain with a ris- 
ing inflection on the word. “Why, we served 
before the mast as boys. We bunked to- 
gether for years, and many a pipe load of to- 
bacco I’ve begged from that old sea-dog.” 

Bill Rambo had gradually slipped into the 


Saved 


301 


background. The mate, turning to Horner, 
said: 

“Captain, there was a little dispute here 
about the ownership of this chest. We were 
talking about it when you came up. This 
man,” pointing to Rambo, “says it’s his prop- 
erty, and the boy,” indicating Paul, “swears 
it’s his property. Now if you want to 
hear — ” 

“Stop!” thundered the Captain, “I want to 
hear no story. I only want to know one 
thing.” 

“What is it?” asked the mate. 

“Singleton was pulled out of the water with 
both these fellows?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“What does he say?” 

“He says it belongs to the boy.” 

“That settles it,” shouted the Captain. “It 
belongs to the boy. Give it to him.” 

“Perhaps I’d better explain. Captain,” said 
Singleton, smiling. 

“Captain,” roared the Commander, “don’t 
you dare to Captain me. I’ll not stand for it 
a minute. I’m plain Jack Horner to you, do 
you understand that? And you’re good old 
Job Singleton, the grandest man that God 
ever breathed the breath of life into.” 

Paul and Jonah were glowing with pride. 


S02 


Saved 


Job blushed like a girl. The Captain put his 
hand on the mate’s shoulder. 

‘Tf everybody in the world — ^with one ex- 
ception — said white was white — and if Job 
Singleton — he being the exception — said 
white was black — I’d believe old Job.” 

Bill Rambo slunk out of sight. The two 
seamen picked up the treasure chest, and fol- 
lowed by Paul Parker and Jonah, started for 
Job Singleton’s room. Here a difficulty 
confronted them. The chest was too large 
to go into the door of the cabin. After much 
deliberation it was decided to carry it into the 
storeroom of the boat and let it remain there 
until they reached Wilmington, 


CHAPTER XXV 


BILL RAMBO BY A LITTLE STRATEGY GETS A 
LOOK INSIDE THE TREASURE CHEST 

I^OTHING would do Captain Horner but 
that Job Singleton should go to his 
cabin and talk over old times. And after that 
he must take dinner with him alone, Paul be- 
ing turned over to the officers’ mess and Jonah 
receiving his rations in the forecastle. In 
this way, the greater part of the day passed, 
and the Albatross, being a fast boat, rapidly 
made its way toward the United States. To- 
ward evening, Paul and Jonah went to the 
storeroom to see if the treasure chest was 
all right. Every precaution was observed. 
The place had been left unprotected for a few 
hours in the morning, but later, everything 
had been found intact. They wondered now 
at their own carelessness, and resolved that 
the box should never again be left alone until 
it was safe in the home of the widow of Cap- 
tain Hawkins. 

The chest filled all of the available space on 
the storeroom fioor, and in order to get in and 
303 


304 


The Treasure Chest 


out, they were compelled to walk around it. 
But this temporary inconvenience was nothing 
to the joy of actually having it in their pos- 
session. Paul felt supremely happy. It 
seemed as though all his earthly wishes had 
been satisfied. He had achieved the object of 
his long and hazardous journey. In addition 
he had the friendship and the company of Job 
Singleton, and the service of the ever-faithful 
Jonah. And last but not least, Alphonse and 
Gaston were on the way home with him. He 
was thinking of all these things when the door 
opened and Job Singleton entered. 

“Hello,” cried the giant, “y^u boys are 
sticking pretty close to that chest.” 

“Do you blame us?” asked Paul. 

“No,” he said with a laugh, “I can’t say that 
I do. See here,” he added, “I think we ought 
to take a look at the inside of that box; what 
do you think?” 

“I think so — decidedly so,” responded Paul, 
“and as the representative of my aunt, I give 
you full permission to go ahead.” 

“All right,” replied the mate, “we’ll do it.” 

Something flashed through Paul’s mind. 
He smiled whimsically. 

“Maybe you will and maybe you won’t.” 

“But why not?” 

“Bambo has the key — that’s all.” 

Singleton made a grimace. 


The Treasure Chest 


305 


“I had forgotten all about the key,” he 
said. 

“What shall we do?” asked Paul. 

“Go to Rambo and ask him for it.” 

“Do you think he’ll give it up?” 

“I don’t know. He might as well, though; 
he’s up against a losing game.” 

“All right,” said Paul, “I’ll go and make a 
formal demand for the key.” 

The boy searched a long while before he 
found the red-faced one. He was not in his 
room. He finally located him sitting aft on 
top of a hatch, smoking a pipe. Rambo spied 
Paul coming in his direction and taking the 
pipe from his mouth, bowed profoundly and 
with mock politeness. 

“Good evening!” 

Paul did not dare trust himself to bandy 
words with the man. He felt that he must 
get directly to the business in hand or his mis- 
sion would be a failure, so he said crisply: 

“I want the key of the chest.” 

“You can’t have the key of the chest,” 
mimicked Rambo. 

“Probably,” said Paul, trying to keep his 
wits about him, “Captain Horner might in- 
duce you to give it up.” 

“Captain Horner! Captain Horner!” said 
the crafty one, pretending not to know the 
name, “where have I heard that name before?” 


306 


The Treasure Chest 


“He’s the commander of the boat,” volun- 
teered Paul. 

“What’s he got to do with me?” 

“Why, you’re on his boat.” 

“Oh, ho!” exclaimed the sly one, “so this is 
his boat, is it? And I was foolish enough to 
imagine it belongs to the United States Gov- 
ernment.” 

“Oh!” cried Paul, losing his temper, “you 
know well enough what I mean. And if Cap- 
tain Horner comes here, he won’t stand for 
any of your nonsense.” 

“Meaning that he will compel me to hand 
you the key.” 

“Exactly.” 

Rambo laughed until the tears ran down 
his red cheeks. Paul looked at him in amaze- 
ment. 

“You’ll really have to excuse me,” he said 
at length. 

“Why this mirth?” asked Paul, ignoring the 
other’s remark. 

“It’s so comical.” 

“What?” 

“Why, the notion of the United States Gov- 
ernment coming along with all of its power 
and majesty to take a key from the pocket of 
Bill Rambo and place it in the hands of lit- 
tle Paul Parker.” 

The reference to his youth made Paul flush. 


The Treasure Chest 


307 


Boy-like, he thought that a shameful thing. 
He turned to Bambo angrily. 

“You’ll have to give it up quicker than you 
think.” 

“Oh, no, I won’t.” 

“Why not — how can you help yourself?” 

“Wait a moment and I’ll show you.” 

Paul stood watching while Bambo dug into 
his trousers pocket and pulled out the key — ' 
the object of their thoughts by day and their 
dreams by night. The man held it out on the 
palm of his hand. Paul felt an almost irre- 
sistible desire to reach over and grab it, but 
the distance was too great. Besides, he felt 
he must be diplomatic. Bambo looked at him 
with a leer. 

“Do you see that?” 

Paul nodded. 

“Are you sure you see it?” 

“Yes! Yes!” 

“Now you don’t.” 

As he uttered the words, Bambo tossed the 
key out into the water and it instantly sank. 
Paul did not know whether to cry or to laugh. 
He did neither. He walked away from the 
man with a white face and compressed lips, 
and as he finally reached the passageway lead- 
ing to his stateroom, he could hear the loud 
mocking laugh of Bill Bambo. 

Job Singleton listened to the recital of the 


308 


The Treasure Chest 


incident in silence. As Paul concluded he 
said: 

“It’s an ill wind that don’t blow some one 
good.” 

“Why?” 

“Why this relieves us. Rambo throws the 
key overboard, so there’s no danger of his get- 
ting into the chest. We can go to our cabins 
now in peace and get a good night’s sleep.” 

“I never thought of that.” 

“Well, I’ve done the thinking for you,” said 
the mate good-naturedly. “Besides,” he 
added, “I don’t like the idea of looking into 
somebody else’s chest — even if it does happen 
to be a treasure chest.” 

“I believe you’re right, Mr. Singleton,” 
said Paul. “I guess it’s all for the best.” 

“Yes,” repeated the sailor, “it’s all for the 
best.” 

They left the storeroom, and half an hour 
later. Job and Paul and Jonah, in their re- 
spective berths, were sound asleep. 

Bill Rambo stayed up late. After the in- 
cident with Paul the big-bodied fellow 
chuckled softly and said to himself : 

“The kid and his pal don’t give Bill Ram- 
bo credit for having any brains, but I’ll fool 
’em.” 

With that he put his hand in his pocket and 
pulled out a key. He looked at it fondly. 


The Treasure Chest 300 

“I duped that smart boy all right. It was 
an inspiration. He thought sure I was 
throwing the real key overboard, and here 
I’ve got it all ready for business.” 

It was midnight when he crept in the direc- 
tion of the storeroom. The door was closed, 
but when he tried the knob, he found, to his 
joy, that it was unlocked. He walked in on 
tiptoe and located the chest. He pushed the 
key in the lock. It was stiff and would not 
work. A dim light aided him in his thievish 
purpose. He tried the key in twenty differ- 
ent ways and at one time swore under his 
breath. But patience conquers mountains, 
and finally the lock was opened and the lid re- 
moved. He crouched near the box, eyes glis- 
tening with excitement, breath coming in 
quick eager pants. 

A large oilskin covered the top of the con- 
tents. Bambo removed this quickly. He be- 
gan to empty the chest. The first thing to 
hand was a green silk dress, evidently pur- 
chased by the Captain for his wife. The salt 
water had penetrated into the chest and the 
dress was ruined. He dug down again and 
brought up another dress, this one also unfit for 
use. After that came two or three suits of old 
clothing belonging to Captain Hawkins, and 
then a unique set of silver that had been pre- 
sented to him by his crew. Bambo knew this 


310 


The Treasure Chest 


from the inscription on the largest piece in 
the set which spoke of “Captain Hawkins’ 
loving kindness to his men.” Beneath these 
things were a quantity of old underclothing. 
The bottom of the trunk appeared in view. 

“Nothing there,” he ejaculated. 

“I’ll keep it up though,” he muttered to 
himself. “I may find something else.” 

He did keep it up and was rewarded with 
a package of United States bank notes to the 
amount of three hundred dollars. Next he 
struck a pile of silver. This was decidedly in- 
teresting, but when the silver pieces were 
counted, they reached the sum of one hundred 
and eighty-five dollars. He made a mental 
addition of the notes and the silver. 

“Four hundred and eighty-five dollars!” he 
ejaculated in a tone of utter scorn. 

He sat there for some minutes looking at 
the money in dumb disappointment. The 
stuff taken from the chest was piled all around 
him in beautiful confusion. While he sat 
there half dazed he heard a sound on the out- 
side. He quickly piled the clothing in the 
chest again and turning the key locked it. 
The money he stuffed promiscuously in his 
trousers pockets. The footsteps were com- 
ing closer, tie gave a last hasty glance at 
the storeroom. A piece of silver lay on the 
floor. 


The Treasure Chest 


311 


“I’ll come back for that,” he muttered; “I 
need a little air now.” 

Quickly he hurried out and made his way 
on deck. 

“The deuce,” he soliloquized. “I’ve been 
chasing these people all around the world for 
four hundred and eighty-five measly dollars. 
It proves one thing. It proves Jim Hawkins 
was a liar. I never did like that man. “Be- 
sides,” he thought maliciously, “there’ll he an 
awful disappointment for Singleton and the 
kid when they open that chest.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


JOB SINGLETON CHASES A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 
WITH STARTLING RESULTS 

A bout one o’clock in the morning Job Sin- 
gleton awoke. He felt restless and un- 
easy. He could sleep no longer. So with 
characteristic decision he arose and dressed and 
went out on deck. 

It was a dark, murky sort of night, and the 
fog-horn on the Albatross was going con- 
stantly. Singleton, whose sense of locality 
was keen, imagined that they were steaming 
through the Windward Channel, and that on 
the following morning they would be skirting 
the coast of Cuba. After that it would only 
be a question of hours when they would sight 
the Bahamas and be off Florida and South 
Carolina. He was correct, and the Albatross 
in spite of the atmospheric handicap kept go- 
ing unerringly ahead. 

Some unaccountable feeling made him anx- 
ous about the treasure chest. 

‘T’ll sleep in the storeroom,” he said to him- 
self. “That’ll make me feel more at ease.” 
He proceeded there at once. The door was 

312 


The Thief 


313 


unlocked but the chest was there all right, ap- 
parently undisturbed. He found a hammock 
suspended from the ceiling and swung himself 
into it with sailor-like agility. This impro- 
vised bed was directly over the chest. Single- 
ton was still restless and ill at ease, an unusual 
condition for this veteran of the sea. He lay 
flat on his back and listened to the constant 
swish of the ocean as the staunch steamer made 
her way through the restless waters. Glanc- 
ing about him his eyes hghted on the port hole 
looking out on the starboard side of the vessel. 
It was open for the sake of ventilation. A 
dull grayish light came from the outside. 
Singleton thought for an instant that a man’s 
head had been poked in the opening and with- 
drawn. He looked intently again. There 
was nothing there. With an angry exclama- 
tion at himself for his nervous misgivings, he 
turned over on his side and made a determined 
effort to go to sleep. 

Just as he had closed his eyes, he heard a 
gentle tapping on the doors of the storeroom. 
It was as if a mouse were nibbling at some- 
thing and at each bite touching the metal of 
the keyhole. The mate remembered that 
while he had closed the door he had not locked 
it. While he was debating whether he should 
get up and fasten it, the door opened gently 
and some one entered the room. 


514 


The Thief 


The intruder was a man. He was short and 
thick-set. The fellow reached toward the 
chest. The mate waited no longer. He put 
out a long, sinewy arm and grabbed the 
stranger by the right leg. At this unexpected 
attack the intruder made a kick at Singleton. 
But the mate held the leg as though it were 
in a vise of iron. Not a word was spoken. 
The situation was tense. Both men prepared 
for a bitter battle. The mate raised himself 
up on one elbow in order to get out of the 
hammock. That movement loosened his hold 
on the leg and the intruder giving a jerk pulled 
the limb away and immediately ran from the 
room. 

Singleton was up like a flash and in close 
pursuit. The two men ran through a pas- 
sageway which led to the saloon of the vessel. 
From there the thief in the night made his way 
out on the starboard side of the boat. A steep 
ladder led to the next deck. He scaled it with 
the intuition and the alacrity of an ape. The 
mate saw the dim figure ascending the high 
steps and unhesitatingly he followed. In a 
half minute they were both on the upper deck. 
The fog was so dense now that it was almost 
impossible to see two feet ahead. Both moved 
slowly and cautiously. The first man walked 
backward as if fearful of a blow from behind. 
Singleton was about to speak, but the hoarse 


The Thief 


315 


and long-continued shrieks of the fog-horn 
made that impossible. Once the short, thick- 
set man stopped as if he had determined to 
fight it out, and then, changing his mind, pro- 
ceeded on his way. He still walked backward, 
and Singleton, going steadily ahead, caught 
glimpses of him at irregular intervals. Pres- 
ently pursuer and pursued reached the big 
smokestack in the center of the boat. The 
sides of the deck at this point were unguarded 
by rails. The stranger moved toward the 
starboard side, increasing his gait as he did so. 
A camp stool lay on the deck unseen. He 
tripped across it, and the next moment he fell 
into black space and struck the water with a 
splash. 

Singleton cried out, but no one heard his 
voice. He ran downstairs, but the blowing of 
the fog-horn drowned all other sounds. More 
than five minutes passed before he located the 
officer in charge and told him what had hap- 
pened. Very reluctantly that person ordered 
the engineer to slow down the machinery and 
stop the vessel. A small boat was lowered 
with great expedition, but in spite of all elf orts 
the crew were unable to find any one in the 
water, a fact that caused one of the jackies to 
say irreverently that the big mate “had dreamt 
it.” Singleton went back to the storeroom; 
the steamer resumed its journey, and the 


316 The Thief 

foghorn continued its interminable wheez- 
ing. 

Singleton got very little rest that night. 
When he arose in the morning he arranged 
that the storeroom should be kept under lock 
and key for the balance of the voyage. Job 
and Paul were invited to dine with the Captain 
that day and accepted with pleasure. Single- 
ton felt it would be a diversion that might take 
his mind otF the exciting happenings of the 
previous night. While they were in the midst 
of the meal, the mate, Mr. Wadsworth, handed 
the Captain a report telling about the stopping 
of the Albatross the night before. The Com- 
mander did not seem to attach any special im- 
portance to the matter, and after reading it, 
handed it back with a nod. Singleton fore- 
bore to tell the Captain of his experience, so 
the conversation ran on other lines. As they 
were finishing, the mate came in a second time 
and saluted his chief. 

“What is it, Mr. Wadsworth?” 

‘T have to report a man missing, sir.” 

“Who is it?” 

“The person called Bill Rambo.” 

“Have you made a thorough search?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Go all through his room?” 

“We did.” 

“What result?” 


The Thief 


317 


“The berth was not slept in last night.” 

The Captain turned to his friend. 

“He must have been the man who went over- 
board last night, Singleton.” 

Job nodded. His reply was emphatic and 
convincing. 

“I’m sure he was,” he said. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE DARK CLOUDS PROVE TO HAVE, NOT A SIL- 
VER, BUT A GOLDEN LINING 

T he Albatross arrived at Wilmington 
twelve hours ahead of time, and Paul and 
Job immediately made ready to go to Lewes. 
This was no light task, for the problem of 
transportation included not only the famous 
chest, but also Jonah and his inseparable com- 
panions, Alphonse and Gaston. The first act, 
after an affectionate parting from Captain 
Horner and Mr. Wadsworth, was to send a 
telegram to Aunt Susan informing her that 
they would be at the old home before sunset. 
The next thing was to keep the chest in 
view until it was finally delivered into the 
hands of the rightful owner. They were in 
honor bound to regard it as a precious thing 
not to be lightly trusted in the hands of a 
stranger. The conductor promptly vetoed a 
request to have it carried in the regular pas- 
senger coach, but they finally compromised by 
permitting it to go in the baggage car, with the 
condition that Jonah was to stay by its side 
until they got to Lewes. 

3i§ 


Home Coming 319 

The quaint old town was reached at an early 
hour in the afternoon, and Paul and Job se- 
curing a conveyance, started at once for the 
house, leaving Jonah to follow with the two 
donkeys. The box was on the seat with the 
driver, but placed where it could be plainly seen 
by the two passengers. As the carriage drove 
up to the house, Aunt Susan came out of the 
doorway and waited on the porch. She evi- 
dently regarded their home-coming as an 
event, for she was elaborately attired for the 
occasion. She wore her silk dress, a garment 
which had heretofore figured only on state 
occasions. A white lace collar set the dress 
off to advantage, while a pair of silk mitts 
helped to emphasize the festive nature of the 
day. 

Paul, jumping out of the carriage and rush- 
ing up the steps, quickly noted these details. 
Aunt Susan opened her arms wide and the next 
instant the boy was being smothered with a 
hearty hug and a very Niagara of kisses. 
Childless herself, she lavished upon Paul 
Parker all the wealth of a mother’s love. 
Holding him at arm’s length, she surveyed 
him from head to foot. 

“You haven’t changed much, Paul.” 

The boy laughed. 

“Why, Aunt, I haven’t been away more than 
a month.” 


320 Home Coming 

“Yes, I know, Paul,” she answered, “but a 
great many things can happen in a month.” 

“A great many things have happened in a 
month,” he retorted, significantly. 

“What do you mean?” 

He was about to reply when he noticed Job 
Singleton standing on the sidewalk. 

“Oh, Aunt!” he exclaimed, “before we say 
any more, I want you to greet Mr. Single- 
ton.” 

“Oh, pardon me!” cried the old lady impul- 
sively. “I was so excited over seeing Paul 
that I must have forgotten my manners.” 

“Aunt,” said Paul proudly, “I want you to 
think an awful lot of Mr. Singleton, for he 
has been a true friend from start to finish.” 

For reply the old lady put her hand into the 
horny palm of the big sailor. He felt very 
uncomfortable, and once or twice looked to- 
ward the door, as if he contemplated flight. 
While they talked, the famous chest was de- 
posited on the porch. That brought them all 
to a realization of the fact that the last act in 
their little drama was at hand. 

“What shall we do with this. Aunt?” said 
Paul, indicating the box, with an indifference 
which he did not feel. 

“Take it in the parlor,” replied Mrs. Haw- 
kins. 

J ob and Paul picked up the chest and car- 


Home Coming 


^91 


ried it into the stately room, musty from lack 
of usage, and laid it carefully on the floor. 

“Now, Paul,” said Aunt Susan, “I want to 
hear the story of your trip — every detail of 
it — and after that we’ll consider the chest.” 

Paul appealed to his sailor friend to relate 
the incidents of their quest, and Job Single- 
ton did so with a rude eloquence that held the 
undivided attention of their lone auditor. 
Her feelings responded to every phase of their 
adventure. When he told of the rascality of 
Bill Rambo, her eyes flashed Are; when he re- 
lated some of the privations they had under- 
gone, the silent tears crept down her cheeks, 
and when he finally told of the loyalty of Jo- 
nah and the usefulness of Alphonse and Gas- 
ton, her venerable face flushed with benign 
pleasure. 

As Singleton concluded, Paul turned to 
Mrs. Hawkins. 

“Now, Aunt,” he said, “we’ll open the chest 
for you.” 

The necessary tools were secured and the 
chest was soon opened. The sight of the silk 
dresses caused Aunt Susan to weep so that she 
could scarcely see for the tears. 

“Oh, Jim! Jim!” she murmured to herself, 
“your last thought was for your old sweet- 
heart.” 

Reverently the dresses were laid aside and 


322 


Home Coming 


the other clothing unpacked. Finally the bot- 
tom of the trunk was reached. Not a trace of 
money was in sight. Singleton was dumb- 
founded. The boy burst out in angry disap- 
pointment. 

“You see, Aunt,” he said, bitterly, “it was 
all an illusion, and there isn’t any money after 
all.” 

“Jim Hawkins never lied,” interjected Job, 
finding his voice. 

Aunt Susan was down on her hands and 
knees now, delving into the trunk. 

“I can scarcely believe Jim could have an 
illusion on such a subject as this,” she said, 
softly. 

She made a movement to arise and as she 
did so she leaned the whole weight of her body 
on the interior of the trunk. Instantly the 
bottom flew up, revealing a shallow sub-com- 
partment. The unusual weight had pressed 
a secret spring which opened the false bottom 
of the trunk. Package after package of 
bright yellow certificates — United States gold 
certificates — lay before their astonished gaze. 

Paul was so excited that he shook like a leaf. 
Job Singleton kept running his hand through 
his hair and exclaiming: 

“Jim Hawkins never lied! Jim Hawkins 
never lied in his life!” 

Aunt Susan was the most composed of all. 


Home Coming 32 S 

She examined the money minutely. It was in 
one-hundred-dollar gold certificates — five hun- 
dred in all — a fortune of fifty thousand dol- 
lars. 

“We must have these put in a place of safety 
before nightfall,” said the prudent old lady. 

“Surely,” answered Paul, “Mr. Singleton 
and I will take it to the bank at once and then 
all anxiety will be over.” 

“Very well,” she said. “And now, how am 
I to reward my faithful friends?” 

“We want no reward!” they clamored in 
chorus. 

“Oh, but you must,” she persisted. 

There was silence for a moment and then 
Paul spoke. 

“Aunt,” he said, “if you grant me one re- 
quest, it will be all I ask.” 

“Surely,” she said. “What is it?” 

“There is a little cottage near the water 
front that can be bought for two thousand 
dollars. It would make a grand place for 
Mr. Singleton to spend his remaining days.” 

“It shall be his,” she replied with emphasis. 

“But, madam,” began the mate. 

“No insubordination,” she said. “In the 
absence of Captain Hawkins I am your su- 
perior ; you must do as you are told.” 

The big sailor stepped backward a pace or 
two, and there was a suspicion of moisture 


324 Home Coming 

about his eyes. The old lady took Paul by the 
hand. 

“And now, my boy, what shall I do for 
you?” 

“Do as you will,” he murmured. “Uncle 
placed me in your hands.” 

She folded him in her arms once again. 
While they were in that attitude, the door 
opened and the shiny, smiling face of Jonah 
appeared. 

“Oh, Aunt,” cried Paul, laughing, “I forgot 
one thing. I want you to adopt Jonah.” 

“He’s adopted,” she answered, smilingly. 

“Oh, thank you, ma’am!” cried the colored 
man fervently. 

The following morning Job Singleton and 
Paul Parker attended mass at the parish 
church, where they offered up fervent thanks- 
givings for the wonderful manner in which 
they had been preserved while in quest of the 
Golden Chest. Aunt Susan shed tears of 
joy. Afterwards she admitted that she had 
never retired at night or awakened in the morn- 
ing without saying a prayer for the adven- 
turers. And her prayers were not for gold 
or glory, but simply that their lives might be 
spared, and that Paul might be returned to 
her — as he was — unspotted by the world and 
unspoiled by success. 

On their return from church they found a 


Home Coming 


325 


letter from Jamaica. It was from one of the 
high officials of Kingston. He wrote by re- 
quest, to say that the lives of Mark Logan and 
Eh Dutton had been spared and that they had 
joined the volunteer corps which had enlisted 
for the burying of the dead, and the cleaning 
up of the devastated island. He added, on 
his own account, that none of those under his 
control were working harder in the interest of 
stricken humanity than the two men from the 
States. 

While the members of the joyous circle were 
contemplating one another, there was a terri- 
ble braying from without. It made Jonah 
look serious. He turned to Aunt Susan with 
great solemnity. 

“What will become of Alphonse and Gas- 
ton?” 

She replied quite as solemnly: 

“They are yours, Jonah.” 

“Mine — to keep?” 

“Yes, yours to have and to hold forever.” 

Jonah was silent for a few moments, long 
enough to permit the idea to work through his 
brain, and then he ran out to the stable and 
lovingly twined his arms about the necks of 
the docile donkeys. 


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Way of the Cross. Paper, 0 05 

Way of the Cross. Eucharistic Method. 0 10 

Way of the Cross. Method of St. Francis Assisi. 0 10 

Way of the Cross. Method Jesuit Father. 0 10 

Way of the Cross. Method St. Alphonsus Liguori. 0 10 

Way of Salvation and Perfection. Liguori. net , 1 50 

Way of Interior Peace. Brucker. net , 1 50 

What Catholics Have Done for Science. Brennan, net , 1 25 
What the Church Teaches. Drury. Paper, 0.25; Cloth, 0 60 
What Times! What Morals! Semple. Paper, net , 0 15 

With Christ, My Friend. Sloan. net , 0 75 

With God. Lasance. Cloth, 1.25; Leather, 2 00 

Young Man’s Guide. Lasance. Cloth, 0.75; Leather, 1 25 


NOVELS 


Agatha's Hard Saying. Rosa Mulholland. 


1 

25 

Back to the World. Champol. 

net . 

1 

35 

Bit of Old Ivory, A. 

net . 

0 

50 

Black Brotherhood. Garrold. 

net . 

1 

35 

Bond and Free. Connor. 

net . 

0 

75 

But Thy Love and Thy Grace. Finn. 


1 

00 

Carroll Dare. Waggaman. 


1 

25 

Circus Rider’s Daughter. Brackel. 


1 

25 

Connor D’Arcy’s Struggles. Bertholds. 


1 

25 

Corinne’s Vow. Waggaman. 


1 

25 

Daughter of Kings. Hinkson. 


1 

25 

Dion and the Sybils. M. Keon. 


1 

25 

Double Knot. 

net . 

0 

60 

Fabiola. Wiseman. 12mo. Illustrated edition. 


0 

75 

Non-illustrated edition. 


0 

50 

Fabiola’s Sisters. Clarke. 


1 

25 

Fatal Beacon. Brackel. 


1 

25 

Faustula. Ayscough. 

net . 

1 

35 

Forgive and Forget. Lingen. 


1 

50 

Friendly Little House. 

net . 

0 

50 

Hearts of Gold. Edhor. 


1 

25 

Heiress of Cronenstein. Hahn-Hahn. 


1 

25 

Her Blind Folly. Holt. 


1 

25 

Her Father’s Daughter. Hinkson. 


1 

25 

Idols. Navery. 


1 

25 

In the Days of King Hal. Taggart. 


1 

25 

In God’s Good Time. Ross. 

net . 

0 

75 

“Kind Hearts and Coronets.’’ Harrison. 


1 

25 

Lady of the Tower. 

net . 

0 

50 

Let No Man Put Asunder. Marie. 


1 

00 


7 


Light of His Countenance. Harte. net , 0 

Little Cardinal. Parr. 1 

Linked Lives. Douglass. 1 

Marcella Grace. Rosa Mulholland. 1 

Mariae Corolla. Hill. net , 1 

Melchior of Boston. Earls. 1 

Mighty Friend. L’Ermite. net , 1 

Mirror of Shalott. Benson. 1 

Miss Erin. Francis. 1 

Monk’s Pardon. Navery. 1 

Mr. Billy Buttons. Lecky. 1 

My Lady Beatrice. Cooke. net , 0 

Not a Judgment. Keon. 1 

One Afternoon and Other Stories. net , 0 

Other Miss Lisle. Martin. net , 0 

Out of Bondage. Holt. 1 

Outlaw of Camargue. De Lamothe. 1 

Passing Shadows. Yorke. 1 

Passion Flowers. Hill. net , 1 

Pere Monnier’s Ward. Lecky. 1 

PiLKiNGTON Heir. Sadlier. 1 

Prisoners’ Years. Clarke. net , 1 

Prodigal’s Daughter. Bugg. _ 1 

Red Inn at St. Lyphar. Sadlier. ‘ 1 

Road Beyond the Town. Earls. 1 

Romance of a Playwright. Bornier. 1 

Rose of the World. Martin. net , 0 

Round Table of German Catholic Novelists. 1 

Round Table of French Catholic Novelists. 1 

Round Table of American Catholic Novelists. 1 

Round Table of Irish and English Catholic Novelists. 1 
Round the World Series. Vol. I. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. II. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. III. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. IV. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. V. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. VI. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. VII. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. VIII. 1 

Round the World Series. . Vol. IX. 1 

Round the World Series. Vol. X. 1 

Ruler of the Kingdom. Keon. 1 

Secret of the Green Vase. Cooke. net , 0 

Senior Lieutenant’s Wager. net . 0 

Shadow of Eversleigh. Lansdowne. net , 0 

So As By Fire. Connor. net , 0 

SoGGARTH Aroon. Guinan. 1 

Son of Siro. Copus. 1 

Songs and Sonnets. Egan. 1 

Story of Cecilia. Hinkson. 1 

Stuore. Earls. 1 

Tempest of the Heart. Gray. 1 

Test of Courage. Ross. net, 0 

That Man’s Daughter. Ross. 1 

Their Choice. Skinner. 1 


75 

25 

50 

25 

25 

00 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

75 

25 

60 

75 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

35 

00 

25 

25 

00 

75 

50 

50 

50 

50 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

25 

75 

60 

75 

75 

25 

50 

00 

25 

00 

25 

75 

25 

00 


8 


Through the Desert. Sienkiewicz. net^ 1 35 

Trail of the Dragon. 1 OO 

Training of Silas. Devine. 1 25 

True Story of Master Gerard. Sadlier. 1 25 

Turn of the Tide. Gray. net , 0 75 

Unbidden Guest. Cooke. net , 0 75 

Under the Cedars and Stars. Sheehan. net , 2 00 

Unravelling of a Tangle. Taggart. 1 25 

Up in Ardmuirland. Barrett. net , 1 25 

Vocation of Edward Conway. Egan. 1 25 

Wargrave Trust. Reid. 1 25 

Way that Led Beyond. Harrison. 1 25 

Wedding Bells of Glendalough. Earls. net , 1 35 

When Love is Strong. Keon. 1 25 

Woman of Fortune. Reid. 1 25 

World Well Lost. Robertson. 0 75 

JUVENILES 

Althea. Nirdlinger. 0 60 

Adventure with the Apaches, An. Ferry. 0 45 

As Gold in the Furnace. Copas. 0 85 

As True as Gold. Mannix. 0 45 

Bell Foundry, The. Schaching. 0 45 

Berkleys, The. Wight. 0 45 

Best Foot Forward. Finn. 0 85 

Between Friends. Aumerle. 0 85 

Black Lady, The. Schmid. 0 25 

Bistouri. Melandri. 0 45 

Blissylvania Post-Office. Taggart. 0 45 

Bob-o’-Link. Waggaman. 0 45 

Boys in the Block. Egan. 0 25 

Brownie and I. Aumerle. 0 85 

Bunt and Bill. C. Mulholland. 0 45 

Buzzer’s Christmas. Waggaman. 0 25 

By Branscome River. Taggart. 0 45 

Cake, The, and the Easter Eggs. Schmid. 0 25 

Captain Ted. Waggaman. 0 60 

Cave by the Beech Fork, The. Spalding. 0 85 

Charlie Chittywick. Bearne. 0 85 

Children of Cupa. Mannix. 0 45 

Children of the Log Cabin. Delamare. 0 85 

Clare Loraine. “Lee.” 0 85 

Claude Lightfoot. Finn. 0 85 

College Boy, A. Yorke. 0 85 

Cupa Revisited. Mannix. 0 45 

Daddy Dan. Waggaman. 0 45 

Dear Friends. Nirdlinger. 0 60 

Dimpling’s Success. C. Mulholland. 0 45 

Dollar Hunt, The. E. G. Martin. . 0 45 

Ethelred Preston. Finn. 0 85 

Every-Day Girl, An. Crowley. 0 45 

Fatal Diamonds, The. Donnelly. 0 25 

Five O’Clock Stories. 0 75 

Flower of the Flock. Egan. 0 85 

For the White Rose. Hinkson. 0 45 

9 


Freddy Carr’s Adventures. Garrold. 0 85 

Freddy Carr and His Friends. Garrold. 0 85 

Fred’s Little Daughter. S. T. Smith. 0 45 

Godfrey the Little Hermit. Schmid. 0 25 

Golden Lily, The. Hinkson. 0 45 

Great Captain, The. Hinkson. 0 45 

Guild Boys of Ridingdale. Bearne. 0 85 

Haldeman Children, The. Mannix. 0 45 

Harmony Flats. Whitmire. 0 85 

Harry Dee. Finn. 0 85 

Harry Russell. Copus. 0 85 

Heir of Dreams, An. O’Malley. 0 45 

His First and Last Appearance. Finn. 1 00 

Hop Blossoms, The. Schmid. 0 25 

Hostage of War. Bonesteel. 0 45 

How They Worked Their Way. Egan. 0 75 

In Quest of the Golden Chest. Barton. 1 15 

“Jack.” 0 45 

Jack Hildreth on the Nile. Taggart. 0 85 

Jack O’Lantern. Waggaman. 0 45 

Juniors of St. Bede’s. Bryson. 0 85 

Juvenile Round Table. First Series. 1 00 

Juvenile Round Table. Second Series. 1 00 

Juvenile Round Table. Third Series. 1 00 

Klondike Picnic, A. Donnelly. 0 85 

Lamp of the Sanctuary. Wiseman. 0 25 

Legends and Stories of the Child Jesus from Many 

Lands. Lutz. 0 75 

Little Apostle on Crutches. Delamare. 0 45 

Little Girl from Back East. Roberts. 0 45 

Little Missy. Waggaman. 0 45 

Loyal Blue and Royal Scarlet. Taggart. 0 85 

Madcap Set at St. Anne’s. Brunowe. 0 45 

Making of Mortlake. Copus. 0 85 

Marks of the Bear Claws. Spalding. 0 85 

Mary Tracy’s Fortune. Sadlier. 0 45 

Master Fridolin. Giehrl. 0 25 

Melor of the Silver Hand. Bearne. 0 85 

Milly Aveling. S. T. Smith. 0 85 

More Five O’Clock Stories. 0 75 

Mostly Boys. Finn. 0 85 

My Strange Friend. Finn. 0 25 

Mystery of Cleverly. Barton. 0 85 

Mysterious Doorway. Sadlier. 0 45 

Mystery of Hornby Hall. Sadlier. 0 85 

Nan Nobody. Waggaman. 0 45 

Ned Rieder. Wehs. 0 85 

New Boys at Ridingdale. Bearne. 0 85 

New Scholar at St. Anne’s. Brunowe. 0 85 

Old Charlmont’s Seed Bed. S. T. Smith. 0 45 

Old Mill on the Withrose. Spalding. 0 85 

Old Robber’s Castle. Schmid. 0 25 

Our Lady’s Lutenist. Bearne. 0 85 

Overseer of Mahlbourg. Schmid. 0 25 

Pancho and Panchita. Mannix. 0 45 

10 


Pauline Archer. Sadlier. 

Peril of Dionysio. Mannix. 

Percy Wynn. Finn. 

Petronilla. Donnelly. 

Pickle and Pepper. Dorsey. 

Pilgrim from Ireland. Carnot. 

Playwater Plot. Waggaman. 

PovERiNA. Buckenham. 

Queen’s Page. Hinkson. 

Queen’s Promise. Waggaman. 

Race for Copper Island. Spalding. 

Recruit Tommy Collins. Bonesteel. 

Ridingdale Flower Show. Bearne. 

Romance of the Silver Shoon. Bearne. 

Rose Bush, The. Schmid. 

Sea-Gulls Rock. Sandeau. 

Seven Little Marshalls. Nixon-Roulet. 

Seven Little Marshalls at the Lake. Nixon-Roulet. 
Shadows Lifted. Copus. 

Sheer Pluck. Bearne. 

Sheriff of the Beech Fork. Spalding. 

St. Cuthbert’s. Copus. 

Strong Arm of Avalon. Waggaman. 

Sugar-Camp and After. Spalding. 

Summer at Woodville. Sadlier. 

Tales and Legends of the Middle Ages. Copella. 
Talisman, The. Sadlier. 

Taming of Polly. Dorsey. 

That Football Game. Finn. 

Three Girls and Especially One, Taggart. 

Three Little Kings. Giehrl. 

Told in the Twilight. Mother Salome. 

Tom Losely: Boy. Copus. 

Tom’s Luck-Pot. Waggaman. 

Tom Playfair. Finn. 

Tooralladdy. Walsh. 

Transplanting of Tessie. Waggaman. 

Treasure of Nugget Mountain. Taggart. 

Two Little Girls. Mack. 

Violin Maker, The. Schaching. 

Wayward Winifred. Sadlier. 

WiNNETOu THE Apache Knight. Taggart. 

Witch of Ridingdale. Bearne. 

Young Color Guard. Bonesteel. 


0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 25 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 75 
0 60 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 25 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 
0 85 
0 45 
0 60 
0 85 
0 45 
0 45 
0 85 
0 85 
0 85 
0 45 


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